


The Trouble with Being a Unicorn

by Angelworks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Smut, Omega Peter Parker, Omega Tony Stark, Omega Verse, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Puberty, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Whump, super family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-10 08:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 298,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelworks/pseuds/Angelworks
Summary: Peter presented as an omega two months ago. The only problem? Male omegas are so rare most people don’t think that they exist. He’s also a part of the Avenger’s Pack, when packs are considered socially unacceptable and backwards. And his suppressants have to be custom made.The good news is that Tony Stark is a male omega as well. So there’s that.Other than that? He’s fine. Totally, completely fine.Except for when he very suddenly isn’t. Can the Avengers figure out what’s killing him before the pack falls apart?This is a wholesome (if a bit angsty) Alpha/Beta/Omega story that is 100% smut free.Warning: In chapter 4 the Avengers storm a high school, triggering a lock down. Feel free to skip that chapter if that sort of thing isn’t your jam.Come for the mystery. Stay for the Feels.





	1. Puppy Pile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m writing this instead of working on my sequel to Going Home as a sort of a palate cleanser. This idea popped into my head a couple of nights ago and demanded to be written. Don't worry. There will be plot. It starts in Chapter 3.

It was nearly 2 am when the Avengers finally made it back to the tower. Filthy, exhausted, and miraculously uninjured, they dragged themselves out of the quinjet and to their respective rooms to shower.

Then they all gathered in the common room at the top of the tower to eat “whatever the hell is still open/not destroyed and delivers” in takeout. (This time it was Chinese, pizza and Indian.) It was Tradition.

And today, Peter Parker joined in for the very first time.

“Try the pizza with some noodles on top. It’ll change your life,” Bucky said, piling Peter’s plate high with alternating layers of carbs.

“I don’t think udon noodles goes with pepperoni pizza,” Peter said warily.

“Don’t give him that Buck,” Steve complained. “You can’t put udon on pepperoni.”

Peter sighed in relief as the plate was taken from him.

“Everyone knows that you have to put honey chicken on pepperoni,” Steve continued, and shoved a new monstrous plate at Peter.

Peter gave a low groan, but didn’t complain. He was too tired to argue. Steve ignored him anyway.

Clint rolled his eyes. “And I say that curry goes best on pepperoni. Spice on spice. Makes sense. You can’t pair honey with pepperoni-”

“Sweet and spicy is a classic!” Steve protested.

Peter did his best to pick the glazed chicken off his pizza.

“Sure, but the cheese ruins it-” Clint started.

“Ugh- not this again!” Tony groaned, emerging from the elevator. “What did I say about arguing at the dinner table?” he mock scolded, and smacked Clint upside the head as he walked past him.

The beta whined. “It’s Cap’s fault! He was giving the kid honey chicken on pepperoni!” he tattled.

“Only because Bucky gave him udon-”

Tony smacked Steve upside the head, which made Steve give off a grumbly growl of protest.

“You all are a bunch of uncivilized knotheads, you know that? Peter’s a growing omega! Which means he’s got a refined palette and does NOT need heaps of junk like you alphas!” He turned to Peter. “You have the butter chicken yet kid?”

Peter shook his head around his bite of slightly glazed pizza. Which was only mildly inedible. Clint was right. The cheese ruined it.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Not an alpha,” he sang resignedly. Everyone ignored him.

Tony shoved another plate at him, this time filled with rice and chicken and some sort of red sauce.

Behind Tony, Clint made frantic miming motions of dunking the pizza in the sauce at Peter.

Peter ignored him.

“Did anyone remember to order a salad this time?” Natasha asked as she emerged from the elevator.

“I placed an order for three salads Ms. Romanoff,” Jarvis said primly from the ceiling.

“Are you really going to eat _ salad _right now?” Bucky asked, scandalized. “You took out like 4 guys with just your thighs- eat a fucking piece of pizza!”

She snorted. “The Maria Stark gala is in two weeks, and _ some _ of us have to fit into our spanx,” she said levelly, grabbed two salads, and pointedly shoved one of them in front of Clint.

“Hey!” he protested.

“You’re not allowed to get scurvy again, remember?” she said archly.

Clint made a face of disgust. “Can’t I just have some orange juice with my pizza?” he whined.

“No.”

Clint sighed, but started on the salad.

Tony started piling naan on Peter’s plate, and gave him the last salad.

Peter choked on a bite of chicken. “Why do I get the salad?” he whined. “I can’t get scurvy!”

“Because you’re still growing. Now eat,” Tony said firmly.

Clint, the eternal bro, tossed Peter a bottle of ranch dressing. Peter caught it without looking. As a protest, he drowned his salad in it.

Everyone ate in silence for a few moments.

“Where’s Bruce?” Peter asked.

“That is an excellent question. Jarvis, where’s Brucie Bear?” Tony asked.

“Doctor Banner is in his labs, sir.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Tell him if he doesn’t get his butt up here I’ll eat his vegetarian meatballs.”

A few seconds later, Bruce’s voice filtered down from the speakers in the ceiling. “You ordered malai kofta?” he asked hopefully.

“Jarvis was in charge of ordering so I’m going with yes,” Tony said.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Bruce said.

Silence returned as everyone shoveled food into their faces. Bucky and Steve had a quiet competition to see who could shove the most food in their mouth at one time, Peter guessed. He couldn’t really explain the chipmunk cheeks on both of them any other way. He physically winced when he saw Bucky eat the udon/pepperoni pizza abomination he’d tried to pass off on Peter earlier. Bucky at least seemed to enjoy it.

Peter went for heaping seconds. He had a feeling that if he dawdled he’d be left with crumbs.

“So... what are we watching?” Clint asked.

Everyone groaned.

“No arguing at the dinner table,” Steve rumbled between mouthfuls of food.

“Peter’s the newest. He gets to pick,” Natasha said.

“Since when?” Bucky demanded.

“Since he’s _ new_,” she said, and flicked a crouton at him.

“Did you just get ranch dressing in my hair?” Bucky whined. “I just washed that!”

“Peter gets to pick,” Tony said suddenly.

Everyone went quiet and turned to stare at Peter, who looked back wildly with a mouth full of naan. “Wa?” he managed.

“You get to pick a movie for us to watch,” Natasha said. “We always watch a movie together after a fight. It’s Tradition.”

Peter swallowed. “Um...” he looked around the room at the collection of crazy, twitchy, walking PTSD cases before him. “Beauty and the Beast?” he suggested faintly. He was fairly sure there was no explosions in that one. Right?

The suggestion was a hit. Jarvis showed the movie on a nearby wall, and one by one the Avengers relocated from the table to a collection of pillows and blankets and bean bag chairs on the floor in front of the screen.

Sometime around the snowball fight scene, Peter drifted off wedged between Tony and Steve with Bucky somehow draped over all of them. Natasha and Clint were somewhere on the edges of the pile, and Bruce slept on the couch behind him.

It was the best night’s sleep he’d ever had.

Which was why when Steve moved to get up at ass-o'clock in the morning, Peter whined like a dying pup and clung to his shirt. He wasn’t even fully awake yet- all he knew was that his warm, comfortable alpha was _ leaving the nest_, and it was the worst thing _ ever_.

“Shh...” a large hand cupped his face.

Peter whined some more. From behind him, Tony shifted and held him tighter, and rubbed a soothing hand on his back.

Peter didn’t let go.

The alpha sighed, and the large hand moved down to rub Peter’s scent glands- a dirty trick that worked, as Peter instantly went boneless and shivered at the reassuring intimate touch, releasing his grip on the shirt. He whined, needy this time.

“There you go... shhh...”

He felt Steve prod Bucky with his foot hard enough to rock the alpha in his place in the nest. The mass at his feet shifted. “Wha?” a sleepy Bucky said.

“Kid needs cuddles,” Steve whispered.

“Move over then. You were always shit at this,” Bucky grumbled.

Peter whined again as the hand left his scent gland, and the alpha left the nest.

“Shh... I got you kid,” Bucky whispered, and slipped into Steve’s former place. The new alpha moved Peter so that his nose was next Bucky’s scent gland and put out a pleasing gentle 'You’re safe now’ chest rumble.

For an omega raised by betas, it was the best fucking thing that had ever happened to him. For the first time that Peter could remember, he purred.

After a moment, Tony joined him.

Peter could feel Bucky’s smirk, and smell his self satisfaction, buried as he was in the man’s neck.

He drifted off again as Bucky gently rubbed his wrist up and down Peter's side, scent marking him.

It was officially, the best night ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to my alpha/beta/omega (A/B/O) fan fic! I’ve gotten comments from some of my readers that this is their first A/B/O fic. If this is you- *welcome*! A/B/O is more typically used as an excuse for porn, but I really liked the pack structure idea that came along with this universe/trope so I straight up stole that, and sort of cut the porn out as much as possible while leaving as much of the “touchy feely cuddly bits” in as I could.
> 
> I wrote this fic assuming that my reader would have a basic knowledge of common A/B/O tropes- alphas, knotting, heats, ruts, scruffing etc. If you’re not familiar with these things, I’ve found a great source that you can check out [here](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Alpha/Beta/Omega), that explains the origins, and some of the central ideas/concepts of this trope.
> 
> And as always, if you’re confused you can drop me a comment! I read *ALL* comments- even if I don’t reply, I’ve definitely read it! But I always try to reply to people who might be confused- and one of my favorite topics is my world building! So don't be shy!


	2. Purring 101

“You missed it,” Bucky declared at breakfast several hours later.

“Missed what?” Steve demanded, sipping a cup of steaming coffee and wiping sweat off his face with a towel from his run.

“He purred,” Bucky declared smugly.

Steve gasped. “What?!”

Peter choked on his cheerios. “I did not!” he protested. Bucky had promised him waffles, the dirty rotten liar, to let him out of the nest. Purring was something pups did. He was NOT a pup.

“I was talking about Stark, but yeah, you did to.”

Peter grumbled, but happily threw Tony under the bus. “You must have heard Tony then,” he lied.

Steve looked devastated. “I missed him purring?” he said forlornly.

“Yep,” Bucky popped the P. “That’s what you get for leaving the nest to go running at stupid-o’clock.”

Steve sighed, and rubbed his face. “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he said, still sad. “I always make sure to scent mark his pillows at night for his nest.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Jesus _ Christ_, Stevie. You are just absolute shit with omegas, you know that?”

Steve snorted. “Yeah? And what do you suggest?” he snipped back.

“Here. Let me show you,” Bucky said.

Peter was in the middle of lifting a cheerio laden spoon to his mouth when Bucky came up from behind him, and physically lifted him off the bar stool. Peter squawked with indignation, and squirmed, dropping the spoon.

“Settle,” Bucky said gruffly, and manhandled him so that Peter’s face was squished up into Bucky’s neck.

Peter thumped against Bucky’s steel like chest and sputtered. “Let me go!”

“No,” Bucky said, then did that chest rumble thing that only alphas could do.

The fucking CHEATER. Peter felt his eyes flutter shut of their own accord.

“Gah,” Peter said intelligently.

Bucky rubbed Peter’s scent gland, and Peter could damn near taste the scent of “safe, warm, loved” being pumped out of Bucky.

Peter went limp and was purring in two seconds flat.

“_See? _ ” Bucky demanded. “It ain’t even that hard. How you _ always _ fuck it up is beyond me.”

Peter blinked. Bucky had stopped rumbling. He felt oddly drunk. He whined in protest. Why had he stopped? Stopping should be illegal.

“It’s not like I’ve had a lot of practice Buck,” Steve complained. “Omegas never even so much as looked at me-”

“Oh my god, let it GO already-” Bucky complained. “You’re _ mated _ now.”

Peter, feeling neglected, hissed and squirmed. Bucky ignored him.

Steve sighed. “I try but you know how he his- he’s barely in bed, and when he IS, he’s passed out in like five minutes,” he complained.

“Jesus... here,” Bucky said, and shoved Peter at Steve.

Peter squeaked as Steve swore and juggled frantically to put an arm under Peter’s ass and not drop his coffee at the same time. Peter instinctively stuck to Steve’s shirt to avoid being dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Bucky shoved Peter’s face into Steve’s neck. Peter squawked, and batted at Steve’s chest, protesting.

“Now rumble,” he demanded.

“What, now?” Steve protested.

“You can’t rumble on command?” Bucky goaded.

Steve flushed for some reason- “Bucky, I don’t think-”

“Come on! Don’t tell me you don’t know how-”

Peter whined, as he was currently being squished between two super soldier alphas, and couldn’t seem to get his brain online enough to form coherent words to protest this.

Steve swore quietly, took a breath and rumbled.

GODDAMMIT.

Bucky’s rumble had been soothing. Steve... Steve’s rumble was damn near rapturous. He could feel Steve’s rumble in his fucking BONES, how was this even possible???

“Now think about how you’ll always protect him,” Bucky commanded. “And rub his scent gland.”

Peter whimpered. Would he even survive such a thing? He could feel his soul being vibrated out of his body from just the rumble alone.

“Shh...” Steve said, and took a breath, inhaling the scent of Peter’s hair as if to center himself. He rubbed Peter’s scent gland, and ‘safe and warm’ began to radiate from Steve.

Peter purred like an idling mack truck. His eyeballs threatened to roll out of his head. Overcooked spaghetti had more structural integrity than Peter’s limbs at the moment.

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered in awe.

“See? Not hard at all,” Bucky said, and ruffled Peter’s hair affectionately.

They stood there for a moment, watching with fond amusement as Peter was reduced to a drooling purring puddle. Steve, growing more confident, abandoned Peter's scent gland to gently rub his wrist up and down Peter's back, marking him.

Peter felt himself start to tremble. A weird heavy feeling started to grow in his belly.

“What the _ fuck _ are you doing?”

Both alphas jumped. The rumbling stopped.

“Are you actually _ trying _ to break him?” Natasha hissed, as she shoved Bucky aside and pulled at Peter. “He literally just presented two months ago!” she said sternly. “You’ll break his baby omega brain rumbling like that!”

“Was just showing Steve how to get an omega to purr, that’s all,” Bucky said. “Don’t need to freak out, Nat.”

Nat glared at them.

“What?” Steve said defensively. “He’s purring, he likes it-”

“And he’d like crack cocaine to, but that doesn’t mean we should feed it to him!” she snapped, and pulled harder.

Peter stuck to Steve. “Nno,” he protested, slurring.

“SEE?” she demanded.

“What’s happening?” Clint asked, sounding barely conscious.

“Stupid alphas are BREAKING Peter,” she said.

Peter groaned, and held on tighter.

“Let go of him!” Natasha demanded.

“I’m trying but he’s stuck to my shirt-” Steve said, sounding alarmed.

“Alpha!” Peter cried. Why was his alpha trying to get rid of him? What was happening? He sobbed pitifully. “Alpha please-”

For a moment everyone froze.

“I told you!” Natasha hissed.

Bucky and Steve swore, and everyone kicked into high gear.

“Just lose the fucking shirt already-” Bucky said, exasperated.

“Get his legs-”

“Oh my god, Steve if you would wear shirts that _ actually _fit you-” Clint complained.

“They _ do _ fit me-”

“Normal shirts don’t need paint remover to get them off, Steve!”

“Just cut the damn thing off, already!” Natasha snapped.

Clint and Bucky had to cut Steve’s shirt and pants off with kitchen shears to get Peter loose because he was using his spider powers to stick to them. The alphas retreated to the elevator while Natasha hissed at them.

“I’m so sorry-” Steve was saying.

“Get to a different floor already!” Clint shouted at them, as he and Natasha wrestled the blubbering mess that was Peter back to the nest.

Natasha kicked Tony awake.

“I’m up! I’m up- what the fuck happened?” Tony asked, aghast.

Natasha shoved the now sobbing Peter at him. “Your _ husband,_” she spat, “was using him for fucking rumble practice for god knows what-”

Peter sobbed harder.

“And now his brain is broken,” she finished.

Tony swore, and hastily gathered the teenager in his arms. “Wake up Bruce,” he insisted.

“I’m already awake,” Bruce said. “What do you need Tony?” he asked quietly.

“Get down here and rub his feet, would ya?” Tony ordered. “Clint get the blue blanket- we’re gonna swaddle him.”

It took an hour. An hour of whispered reassurances and cuddling and hand and foot massages before Peter stopped being a sobbing blue burrito of complete and utter omega sadness, and was merely a grumpy omega with a headache in a blue blanket.

“Wat...” Peter slurred into Nat’s shoulder as she gently traced his scent gland with her fingers. “What... happened?” he felt like he’d been hit by a semi-truck.

She sighed. “Shhh маленький*, all is well. It was just some alphas being stupid,” she muttered into his hair.

“Hmmm...”

Behind him Tony sighed. “You feel okay kid?”

“Headache,” Peter bitched.

“Jesus Christ...” Clint muttered. “Thought you might go into a false heat there for a moment.”

Peter made an alarmed noise.

“Shh... nothing to worry about Pete,” Tony said firmly, and kicked Clint hard enough to get a yelp out of the beta. “I’m gonna go get some coffee, okay?”

Peter grumbled, and buried himself further into Natasha. She was surprisingly soft, and made an excellent cuddler.

Tony staggered off into the kitchen. “Jarvis, show me what the fuck happened,” he growled.

5 minutes later a raging Tony was going down the elevator to “Wherever the fuck those knotheads are.”

Peter watched him go. “Is Tony going to kill Steve?” he asked distantly, still feeling a bit concussed.

“If he doesn’t I’ll finish the job,” Natasha said sweetly.

“Good,” Peter said, and fell asleep.

*****

Tony hadn’t foamed at the mouth in years. YEARS.

Okay, there had been that one time at an after party, but that had been the alkaselter’s fault, really. The fact that he’d punched that guy in the face while he was foaming was a coincidence, no matter what the tabloids said.

Ever since the doctors had given him the “Chill or die of a coronary” speech for like, the 100th time, he had taken time to make sure that while yes, he was living off mostly caffeine and inspiration, he wasn’t angry while he was doing it. Manic? Maybe. Angry? No.

Hell, he mediated with Bruce now. He was chill as FUCK. Or, at least, could be.

So when Bucky took one look at his face and scrambled desperately to get out of the way, Steve turned around in confusion, and got a face full of barely warm coffee for his troubles.

Steve stood stock still, while Bucky stared at them, eyes wide as saucers. He started edging towards the elevator.

“Jarvis freeze the elevators,” Tony snarled.

Bucky froze.

Steve spoke first. “Tony- I’m sorry-”

“You.... you stupid ALPHA!” Tony hissed. “Do you even CARE that you nearly triggered a false heat in Peter?”

“What?” Bucky said, confused and alarmed. “It was just rumbling-”

“It wasn’t just any rumbling. That’s the rumble you do to make my heat progress faster. You IDIOT. What the hell were you thinking?! He’s 15! He _ just _ presented! He hasn’t even had a second heat yet! You going for ‘how to damage a baby omega the most’ award or something?” Tony ranted.

“My rumbling makes your heat come faster?” Steve said, confused.

“Oh my god,” Bucky breathed. “You stupid son of a bitch.”

“What?” Steve demanded, clearly lost. “You said- YOU SAID to rumble, so I did!” Steve said, pointing a finger accusingly at Bucky.

“There’s a difference between the rumble you do for your mate and the one you do for a pup, ya dumb fuck!” Bucky snarled, and smacked Steve’s shoulder angrily.

“And that’s another thing!” Tony threw his mug at the floor. Both alphas jumped when the mug shattered into a million pieces.

“He’s a goddamned human being, not your fucking care bear! You don’t get to just... pull his string whenever you feel like it! Did it ever occur to you that he might not WANT to purr?”

Both alphas stared in confusion at Tony.

“But... when omegas purr it’s a good thing,” Bucky said, hesitantly. “It means you’re doing a good job of taking care of them,” he said slowly.

“He’s a CHILD! An unmated, recently presented CHILD who was raised by Betas!” Tony ranted. “And you treated him like a stuffed toy! Making him purr on command like that is just...” Tony shook his head. “If I ever, EVER catch you doing that to an omega again, I’ll castrate the both of you,” he growled.

“Tony...” Steve tried.

“He cried. For an hour, Steve. AN HOUR.”

To his immense satisfaction both alphas looked immediately horrified and shamefaced at that.

“It... it won’t happen again,” Bucky said quickly. “We... we didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Tony glared at them. “I just don’t even understand. What _ on earth _ even made you two think this was a good idea? Would you have even pulled this stunt if Peter was a girl?”

Both alphas looked confused. “Well, no-” Bucky said. “You can’t do that to an omega-”

“PETER _ IS _ AN OMEGA!” Tony roared. “He just happens to have a dick! He’s just as much of an omega as any other omega! Or are you saying that I’M not an omega?”

“What? Tony- Tony, no,” Steve said sweetly. “Baby, you’re a perfect little omega, you know that-”

Tony bristled and snarled a bit. He was _ not _ “little” that stupid piece of shit Rodgers... omegas were just generally shorter, that’s all. It’s not HIS fault that he was the second shortest of the group. He was a perfectly normal height THANK YOU VERY MUCH, it was everyone ELSE who was just freakishly tall...

Bucky, the smarter of the two, Tony decided, looked as if Steve had just jumped onto a landmine and took a step backwards. “Steve...” he hissed warningly.

“Um... I mean... I love you?” Steve tried again. “And your ass looks... just amazing today,” he threw in, and tried his best “I’m Captain America and I’m being gosh darn charming right now” smile.

Tony narrowed his eyes but did not allow himself to be sidetracked. He was immune to the smile anyway. Mostly.

“So why did you do that to Peter then?” he demanded.

“I...” Steve said, clearly grasping at straws.

“Because we’re idiots who don’t think, that’s why,” Bucky said, taking the hit.

Tony turned his glare on Bucky and made a decision.

“I’m banning you both from common floors,” Tony snapped. “For a week.”

Steve hunched in on himself. “Tony- you don’t mean that-”

“NO! I’m the pack Omega. It’s my _ job _ to protect the pack when we’re at home, and that’s what I’m doing! I’m protecting the pack! So suck it up!”

Steve looked absolutely wrecked when it clicked that Tony was protecting the pack from HIM, the pack’s alpha.

“Tony-” he whined.

“No- no-” Bucky stepped up and grabbed Steve’s arm. “It’s okay. We get it. We’ll camp out on the guest floor,” he said quickly.

“Good,” Tony spat, and stalked back to the elevator. “Back to the common floor Jarvis,” he said.

He glared daggers at the pair until the doors closed.

_ Stupid fucking alphas... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve were complete and utter knotheads in this chapter. They’re idiots that didn’t mean any harm, but still. I’m not quite sure where the whole “make you purr on command” falls on the “rudeness vs almost sexual assault” scale, but the bottom line: It’s called context and consent, people. Especially since Peter is so new at being an Omega he doesn’t have the same self control over his instincts someone older, like Tony, would have.
> 
> Also don't mind the edit fairy. She came through and made a few wording changes, and fixed some spacing.
> 
> * little one


	3. Parker Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re rereading this work, you’ll notice that that several sections of this chapter have been extensively reworked. More details in the note at the bottom if you’re interested as to the “whys”.

Peter woke up at noon, and felt tired. He stumbled out of the nest and into the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cheerios.

He was just... confused. He ate his bowl at the kitchen’s island, and had the strangest sense of deja vu. Where the hell was everyone anyway?

“Jarvis... where is everybody?” he asked.

“Sir is in his workshop. Doctor Banner is in his labs. Clint and Natasha are in the gym. Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers are on the guest floor.”

Why the fuck were Steve and Bucky on the guest floor? He wondered.

Not really sure what else to do with himself, he went to Tony’s lab.

The music dimmed as Peter entered, and Tony looked up from whatever the hell he’d been soldering with a “Hey there Underoos! How you feeling?”

Peter grunted, and slumped down in a chair near Tony. “Weird,” he said. “I had like... the weirdest dream...”

Tony stilled. “Oh?” he said innocently. “About what?”

“I... don’t know. I was... sitting and eating my cheerios at like the kitchen island, right? And then... Bucky like... hugged me? And I couldn’t stop purring-” Peter shivered. “And then...” he flushed, stopped, and shrugged. “It was just _weird_.”

Tony sighed. “Come here. Let me look at you,” he said, and walked over.

Peter held still as Tony felt his forehead with the back of his hand, then propped Peter’s chin up to get a good look at his eyes. “You feel hot at all?” he asked seriously.

“No,” Peter grumbled.

“You take your suppressant this morning?”

Peter flushed. “No,” he confessed.

“You know, suppressants don’t work if you don’t take them, Pete. Even if they’re super fancy and customized just for you,” Tony said with a pointed look.

“I know! I just... I just forgot, alright?”

“Do I need to put a reminder on your phone?” Tony asked, not unkindly.

Peter made a face. “No,” he said sullenly.

“Any side effects from the new formula? You sleeping alright? No mood swings?”

“No. Just... just the dream-”

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair. “Don’t freak out over just a silly dream Pete,” he said.

“Yeah I know,” Peter said.

“Good. Go take your pill, then come back and help me with this, yeah?” Tony asked.

“Sure,” Peter said.

After hours tinkering with Tony in his shop, he felt much better- almost back to normal.

At 6, Jarvis dimmed the music and announced “Sir, it is time for Peter to return home.”

Peter groaned. “Come on Jarvis! It’s only- oh my god it’s 6!”

“Better hurry up or you’ll be late kiddo!” Tony teased as Peter sprinted towards the elevator.

“I know! I KNOW!” Peter called back. “See you next Friday! Jarvis, my room!”

It took forever for him to loot his room and put his homework in his backpack. He looked at the time on the wall- fuck, he was going to be LATE.

“Forget it, I’ll swing there-” he muttered, and shoved his mask on.

“Whoa- where’s the fire, Pete?” Clint demanded as Peter sprinted across the common room and towards the landing pad/balcony. Thankfully Jarvis saw him coming and retracted the glass doors for him. Clint, Nat and Bruce were sitting at the table, eating dinner.

“Late for Aunt May!” he shouted, “Sorry, bye-”

He took a running leap from the balcony, webbed the support beam that Tony had installed just for him, and swung out over Manhattan. Swinging was always his favorite part of the day. The adrenaline rush was amazing, especially when he let his toes brush the sidewalk.

But today he was going for speed, and not fodder for his youtube channel, so he stayed high and worked hard, using his weight and arching his back with pointed toes to get the most out of every swing. It was a full body workout, and by the time he got to Queens, he was sweating.

He collapsed behind a deli and changed. Which meant that he took his mask and gloves off, threw on a hoodie, sweatpants and some tattered Vans before he did his best to slink nonchalantly out from behind the Deli.

He jogged down the block and hopped the waist high chain link fence with ease, putting his keys in the front door at exactly 6:25.

Holy fuck, he was EARLY.

“Aunt May!” he called. “I’m home!”

He bounded happily across the living room to the kitchen. “Aunt-”

The kitchen was empty. No pots were on the stove, and the oven was cold.

“Aunt May?” he asked hesitantly.

The house was likewise empty.

He felt a pit grow in his stomach, and hastily dug his phone out of his bag. There was a voicemail on it, dated from two hours ago.

“Sorry Peter! I don’t think I can make it to family dinner tonight,” May’s voice was strained. “They’re doing a surprise drill at the hospital and I don’t know when I’ll be getting home. Say hi to Tony for me! Oh- and tell him I said it was okay for you to spend the night! Love you!”

Peter sighed, and collapsed against a wall. Of course. The one time he was actually early for something...

He had a box of mac’n’cheese for dinner and double decker PB&J sandwich before going to bed in an empty house.

He got up to a blaring alarm clock. He could have an alarm on his phone, but he’d accidentally smashed enough cheap alarm clocks in the year or so since the spiderbite to know better.

He hopped into the kitchen, trying to put on pants and shoving things into his book bag at the same time, and failing miserably at all three things. Aunt May was there, making her lunch, and she wordlessly handed Peter a brown paper lunch bag as he flailed past.

“Hey-” Aunt May said.

Peter looked up.

“I’m really sorry about last night-”

“No- no! It’s fine. It’s work. It’s important, I know.”

She sighed and gave him a fond smile.

“You’re such a good kid Peter,” she gushed. Peter flushed.

“Aunt May-” he protested.

She ruffled his hair. “Don’t forget I start working in the surgery rotation today,” she reminded him. “So if you need anything, you’re going to have to call Tony-”

“Because I can’t call you when you’re in theater-” Peter recited. “I know!”

“Good,” she said. “Take your pill.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but he grabbed the pill of the counter and downed it dry.

“And take a shower when you get home, you stink!” she called after him as he ran out the door.

“Good to know,” he grumbled, and smelled a pit. It was a little bit funky, but nothing an extra dose of deodorant wouldn’t fix. He’d spray himself down when he got to school.

He got on the subway and crammed himself into a seat near the end. A few seconds later the lady sitting next to him made a face at him and stood up, and wandered down the aisle to stand.

Peter made a face back. Jesus Christ, he knew he was a bit funky, but he wasn’t nearly as bad as the homeless guy at the other end of the car. Peter could smell the piss even from here.

A few stops later and the train was starting to get full, but no-one sat next to Peter. Which he was grateful for, really as he pulled out his chemistry homework and rechecked the math on his answers.

Two stops later and he was shoving the homework away, and pressing his way out of the car. To his utter astonishment, people actually moved out of the way for him. He was actually able to say “Excuse me” at a normal tone instead of his usual half-shout.

Maybe this morning wouldn’t be complete and utter shit after all, he thought.

The weirdness continued at school. Peter ducked into the beta bathroom. Two girls who were doing their makeup in the mirror frowned at him.

He gave himself a quick spray with the can of axe he kept in his book bag.

“Wrong bathroom asshole,” the taller of the two said.

Peter rolled his eyes. He was an omega, but everyone _knew _the omega bathroom was for girls only, and the one time he’d tried to use it it had resulted in an argument with two omega girls and a teacher that ended in the principal’s office. In the end, they had agreed not to suspend him so long as he never did it again, and had chalked it up to a “misunderstanding”.

The fact that he was an actual omega didn’t seem to matter to any of them. He was a _boy_. And _boys _weren’t allowed in Omega bathrooms.

Thankfully the betas didn’t seem to care who used their bathrooms as long as they weren’t alphas.

“Sorry,” he said, too tired to argue, and slipped back out again.

He went to his locker and shoved things inside. Something was off. He just... couldn’t put his finger on it.

And then Flash shoulder checked him, hard enough to make Peter drop everything in his hands. Peter sighed, and turned to glare at Flash-

“Oh! Sorry.” the tall blonde alpha said, then turned to go.

Peter wasn’t sure who’s brain shorted out first. They both seemed to freeze at the same second, as they both realized what had just come out of Flash’s mouth.

_WTF... _

2 milliseconds later Peter was pinned against the lockers and Flash was towering over him. Flash took a good long sniff of Peter, which turned Peter scarlet with shame. Flash scowled at him.

“You charging by the hour now, Penis?” he taunted.

“What?”

“How much you charging? 50 cents?”

“Let GO of me Flash!” Peter said, pushing at the larger boy. He couldn’t use his super strength. Not here, where there were witnesses and cameras.

“Whatever it is, you’re overcharging,” Flash sneered down at him.

“Hey- hey- break it up!” A teacher boomed from down the hall. “No alpha fights! Don’t make me get a hose!”

Flash backed off, and purposely spat on Peter’s shoes. “Fucking beta slut-” he rumbled, before going down the hall.

A teacher jogged up. “Hey- no fighting in the hallway-” he scolded.

“I wasn’t-” Peter said weakly, cheeks still red. He looked at his shoes in disgust. Dammit. He tried to wipe it off on the floor, but only managed to smear it over the canvas.

The teacher glared at him. “Get to class then,” he said.

Peter sighed, but obeyed.

Well, that was nice while it lasted, Peter thought disgusted. And his morning had almost been not complete and utter crap.

He slid into his seat at biology next to Ned, who promptly wrinkled his nose at him. “Jesus Christ dude-” Ned complained. “Did you forget to shower this morning?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I took one last night!” he complained. “And I put on extra deodorant. It _cannot _be that bad.”

“Are you due for a heat or something?” Ned said, concerned. “You take your suppressant this morning?”

“What? No!” Peter flushed. “And yes-” he hissed, “I took my fucking pill, alright?”

Ned rolled his eyes. “I’m just telling you dude. Bro code, remember?”

Peter grumbled. “Everyone’s acting weird,” he complained. “Flash shoulder checked me and then _apologized_.”

Ned stared at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! And then-_ then _he shoved me up against the lockers and asked if I was charging by the hour.”

Ned’s face morphed into confusion. “What? What does that even mean?”

“I know, right? He even called me a slut! I’d suspect additional brain damage, but there wasn’t a football game this weekend-”

“Maybe he got another concussion at a practice?” Ned offered.

Peter rolled his eyes. “That can’t be right. If he gets another one they’re gonna kick him off the team, you know that-”

“Mr. Parker, I’d like to start class now if you don’t mind,” Mr. Hastings, an ancient beta said dryly from the front of the class.

Peter flushed. “Sorry Mr. Hastings,” he said, and sank a bit in his seat.

“Now to recap what we were talking about last Friday- secondary genders,” Mr. Hastings said, and started writing on the board. “There are three of them, I won’t insult you by asking what they are-” he flashed a tired smile at the class. “Alpha, Beta, and Omega.”

Peter sighed. Didn’t they cover this in health class last year? He doodled in his notebook.

“Now Betas can be male or female, and they make up about 50% of the population. Alphas are almost all male, but occasionally female alphas do happen. This is opposed to Omegas, who are exclusively female.”

Peter froze in mid-doodle, and sank a little in his chair. Jesus christ, did his teacher really just say he didn’t exist? He looked over, and saw that Ned was staring at him, horrified.

Someone raised their hand. “Why is that Mr. Hastings? The textbook doesn’t say.”

Mr. Hastings paused. “I’m sorry?”

“Why aren’t there any male omegas?” the girl continued.

Mr. Hastings considered for a moment. “Well, I don’t really know. If I were to guess, I would say it’s to do with genetics, and the fact that Alpha and Omega designations are unique genetically recessive traits... “

The teacher thought for a moment. “If people are interested, I can do some research and we’ll cover it when we go over Punnett Squares in two weeks. I think there we’ll find an answer as to why it’s impossible for there to be a male omega.”

“Mr. Hastings-” Ned spoke up, and Peter could FEEL his life flash before his eyes-

“Ned-” he hissed, willing the boy to shut the fuck up.

“Peter is an omega,” Ned, ever the oblivious, finished.

Peter wondered if throwing himself out the window would get him a suspension or just a detention.

Mr. Hastings blinked owlishly at them. Several of the students snickered.

Peter could feel his cheeks burning, and couldn’t bring himself to meet Mr. Hasting’s eyes.

“Very mature, Mr. Leeds,” Mr. Hastings said, sarcastically. “But I think in the future, if you want to embarrass your friend, you should refrain from doing so in my class,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing. “We have a zero tolerance policy for bullying in this building.”

Ned squirmed in his seat. “Sorry Mr. Hastings,” he muttered.

After a tense moment, Mr Hastings sighed. “Anyway- to get us back on track, what evolutionary advantages does having a secondary gender give humans over, say, apes?”

Peter kicked Ned’s ankle, and hard.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Peter hissed.

“Ow- shit, I’m sorry-” Ned whispered. “You know I don’t have a good filter-”

Mr. Hastings shot them a glare.

Peter kicked Ned again, and settled for being grouchy in his chair.

Goddamn it. Why did school have to always suck??

He didn’t see Ned again until lunch time. Which was a good thing because it took that long for him to go from murderous to merely outraged with his best friend. Ned looked up with delighted relief when Peter plonked down in the seat next to him at the lunch table.

“Oh my god, Peter- I am so sorry-” Ned blurted. “I was an ass-”

“Why don’t you just tell everyone that I like to take it up the ass, while you’re at it?” Peter hissed, seething. “You can make a poster about it and put it up over the main entrance. Save everyone the trouble of wondering.”

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t- I wasn’t thinking!”

“Flash had better not hear about it,” Peter grumbled. “I’ll probably get lacy panties or dildos or something put in my locker. _Again _. And this time I’ll make YOU deal with them!”

Ned winced. “What _did _you do with those panties from last year, anyway?”

Peter sighed. “I threw them out in a dumpster.”

“I thought you were going to donate them?”

Peter gave him a Look. “Oh yes. Of course. What a good idea. Just show up at an Omega Shelter with an armful of lacy, crotchless panties for donation. I’m sure they’d _really _appreciate it.”

Ned’s wince increased. “Yeah. That does sound like a bad idea.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

Ned looked dejectedly at his rectangular pizza. Peter dug his sandwiches out of his lunch bag. They sat in brittle silence for a few minutes.

“It’s just that I fucked up, but like, I’m here for you, you know?” Ned blurted. “And I’m sorry, I really am!”

Peter sighed. “Ned. It’s okay. We’re... we’re still cool. But _you’re _dealing with any locker stuff, you got it?”

Ned sagged with relief. “Yeah. I will,” he agreed. He paused. “You gonna eat your raisins?” he asked hopefully.

Peter wordlessly handed his mini box of raisins over.

“So, what did you do this weekend?” Ned asked cautiously, seeking safe conversational ground.

“I went out with-” Peter stopped, and waited for the security guard to walk past them. “I went out with _them _,” Peter said quietly. “On Saturday.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “REALLY? I didn’t see it on the news-”

Peter shrugged. “It wasn’t a big thing really. There was _supposed _to be like super smart killer robots or something, but it was basically a bunch of like... super villain roombas with like... spikes and stuff welded on. It was totally lame. I spent most of my time on the ceiling taking out sensors while Cap and Tony and Bucky just beat the crap out of anything that moved.”

Ned sighed. “But you were there, right? That had to count for something-”

Peter shrugged. “I guess? The best part was when we got back-” Peter hesitated. That security guard was walking past again. He waited until he was gone.

“Yeah?” Ned prompted.

“We ate together and then we watched Beauty and the Beast in the common room and fell asleep there.”

“You watched Beauty and the Beast with freaking Iron Man?” Ned asked, awed.

“Yep.”

Ned stared at his pizza. “That is _so _cool.”

After a minute, he asked “Why Beauty and the Beast though?” clearly confused.

Peter sighed. “They made me pick and I... I panicked!”

“You picked Beauty and the Beast? Dude!”

“They all have like crazy PTSD! I was afraid that if I picked like John Wick they’d either all freak out or spend the whole time complaining about his stance or something-”

“Why would they-” Ned paused as the security guard went past, yet AGAIN. Peter frowned at the man, who was now passing ridiculously close to them.

They both froze as the man stopped behind them, and... sniffed? Then glared at them. Peter and Ned looked back. Peter was sure his face had “WTF” written all over it.

The guard stalked off.

“What the hell?” Peter asked quietly, seriously skeeved.

“Is it just me, or did he just scent us?” Ned said quietly.

Peter blinked. “What? Why would he do that?”

“I mean... you _are _an omega...” Ned started.

Peter groaned.

“And you do... well... I said you need to take a shower man,” Ned continued.

“For the last time, Ned,” Peter hissed furiously, “I’m not going into heat!”

Ned threw up his hands. “I didn’t say that-” he sighed. “You were saying that they’d complain about his stance?” he said, changing subjects. “That’s impossible. Keanu Reeves is like a master at shooting a gun.”

“It’s what Clint did when I watched Die Hard with Tony. He just wandered in and started complaining about how McClane was doing everything wrong,”

Ned looked scandalized. “Hawkeye dissed John McClane?” he gasped. “That’s...”

“Like blasphemy or something, I_ know_! I thought he’d be a fan because they both spend like half their lives in vents-”

“Hawkeye goes in the air vents?”

“Dude, I think he _sleeps _in them,” Peter said. “I’m fairly sure the last time he slid out of one he had to shove a blanket back in.”

Ned shuddered. “Sounds claustrophobic.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but security dude was back, this time with another security dude friend. Peter and Ned watched them suspiciously as they walked past, this time almost close enough for the new guy to brush past their backs. Which was stupid, because while they were sitting at the table nearest the wall, they were a good 4 feet from it. No physical contact should be needed to get past.

The men walked into a nearby hallway.

“Dude...” Ned said. “Do you think they’re doing it on purpose?”

Peter sighed. “I have no idea,” he said morosely. A sudden painful tingle in the back of his neck made him scramble to the side just in time to avoid being splashed by a flying lunch tray landing on the table in front of him.

“What the-“ Peter asked, just in time to hear the awful boom and clatter of a lunch table being overturned.

“ALPHA FIGHT!” someone shouted on the other side of the lunch room. The security guards that had been stalking past them earlier came barreling back in, and headed straight for the apparent fray.

Peter sighed and picked at the tray, and revealed a now milk soaked PB&J sandwich. “Damnit. I was still hungry-“ he complained.

“I think Saul is going to finally kill Greg,” Ned said excitedly. He’d climbed on his seat to get a better view. He pulled out his phone and held it over his head.

There was another crash as what sounded like a lunch table got a body thrown on it. Several people were screaming now. 

“What’s going on?” Peter stopped a passing freshman girl who was coming away from the fight.

“Greg took some of Saul’s food right off his lunch tray!” she blurted, clearly appalled. “Sorry- I have to go email these pictures before the school makes me delete them-” she babbled. “I’m totally going to get some good traffic to my blog with these!” she crowed, and hurried off.

Peter hesitated. On the one hand, he could help out. On the other hand, he didn’t have his spider suit on him, and it would be really weird for Spider-Man to show up for a school Alpha fight.

But on the other, other hand-

The guards shouted, and there was a distinctive zap of a Taser, followed by the thump of large probably alpha bodies hitting the floor, and the “Ooo” of a crowd expressing sympathetic pain.

It sounded like they had it well in hand. They were guards. They weren’t outnumbered or anything. So like police officers taking down suspects then. And Tony had made him swear to a strict no-interference policy when it came to police.

He glared at his ruined food.

_Stupid alphas._

“Come on Ned,” Peter said, standing and abandoning his lunch. “I think the library should be quieter.”

“Just ah- one minute-“ Ned said, staring at his phone. 

“Ned!”

Ned sighed, and reluctantly put his phone away. “Man. I’m never get to see anything good,” he complained, but got down anyway. 

This was such a weird fucking day.

An hour later Peter was sitting in his history class, when the PA system whined into life, and said “Ms. Hudson? Please send Peter Parker to the counselor's office.”

Everyone looked at Peter.

“Well? You heard ‘em. Off you go, Parker,” Ms. Hudson said.

“Okay-” Peter said slowly, and gathered his things. Why the hell did he need to go see the counselor?

He sighed, and walked out of the classroom. This day just kept getting worse and worse. When he’d sat down in History class, the seats next to his had been the last to fill. Which, ya know, wasn’t new. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular or whatever. But then people had sat next to him, and then when he’d looked up 10 minutes later he’d discovered that _every last one of them _had quietly scooted their chairs as far away from his as possible. So that he had like... an invisible bubble surrounding his chair.

Jesus Christ, he was going to spend like 2 hours with a scrub brush from the kitchen in the shower when he got home today.

He walked down the hallway. A tiny omega carrying a load of books squeaked and plastered herself to the wall as he passed, dropping everything. He stopped. “You alright?” he asked earnestly.

“I’m sorry-” she babbled. “I just...” she inhaled, and went a little cross eyed. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice high and strained, obviously lying.

“Let me help-”

“NO!” she shouted, then looked like she’d rather sink into the floor just now. Peter knew the feeling, so he backed off both literally and metaphorically.

“Um...” he said, feeling awkward. “I’ll just... go then?”

“Yes! Um, yeah. No I’m fine, thanks for asking.” she said nervously.

Peter walked down the hall, feeling like the biggest jerk in existence. Seriously, _what the hell? _

Thankfully he made it to the office without further incident. He knocked.

“Come in!”

Peter opened the door and hesitated. Sitting behind a desk was a man Peter had never seen before. Peter frowned. What had happened to Ms. Farfield? She’d given Peter like 20 pamphlets when Uncle Ben had died to give to his Aunt. Some of them had actually been useful. And she’d helped him collect his homework and get extensions on a couple of exams. He’d liked her.

“Don’t be shy, come on in Peter,” the man said with saccharine smile. “Just want to talk that’s all.”

Peter stepped inside, and it wasn’t until the door closed behind him that he was aware of the two alpha security guards standing in the corners where he couldn’t see them when he first entered. Clint was going to skin him alive for his lack of situational awareness.

“Um... hi?” he managed.

The counselor- another alpha, Peter realized with growing horror, waved at the chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat Peter.”

After a long moment, Peter sat. He felt oddly like he’d just walked into a firing squad. On the back of his neck, his spider sense tingled quietly. Behind him, the alpha guards shifted. Peter swallowed his panic.

Jesus Christ get it together, he thought desperately. The man is a_ teacher _. Not a supervillain. He was Spider-Man for crying out loud. He could handle a bit of alpha posturing.

He would be FINE.

“What do you want to talk about?” Peter asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skygirl noticed a plot hole. Or rather, a plot point that wasn’t explained well enough, and left me a comment telling me about it. I agree with her and I’ve reworked parts of this chapter to address it. Everyone wave at Skygirl! She’s a Good Reader and Good Commenter. 
> 
> jasjamjaz noticed that Peter lived in an apartment building for all of 3 seconds in this chapter. Great eagle eyes jasjamjaz! It's all fixed now. He's now in a regular house just like in the old 2000's era Spider-Man movies. 
> 
> Extra bonus shout out to TheStrange_One who wanted to know more as to why male omegas are rare. Instead of doing a massive info dump in a later chapter, I thought I’d give a vague hand wavy outline while we’re in Biology Class, and leave a more detailed explanation for later when we meet “The Competent Doctor.”
> 
> And what’s a Punnett Square? The 5 second answer to that question is a diagram that helps explain how recessive and dominant genetic traits are inherited. It also can be used to help show how likely a particular pair of parents are to have children with certain traits.
> 
> This is also a reminder that I read *all* the comments. Feel free to point out plot holes or areas that made you go “what?”. It won’t hurt my feelings, I promise. I often take feedback on what I’ve written so far and tweak future chapters to address things people point out. It’s part of my process. 
> 
> (Also, please feed the author I freaking LOVE comments!)
> 
> Edit: 9/13/2020 I added the alpha fight scene and the spider sense reference.


	4. The Hazards of Rescuing Princesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter revolves around the Avengers storming a high school. The good news: The Avengers don’t shoot anyone, and they’re in and out in under 5 minutes. But it’s long enough for people to freak out and start lock down procedures. 
> 
> So, keep that in mind. I want ya’ll to have a good time here. 
> 
> Also, Peter is a fluffy precious innocent unicorn and the avengers are fully prepared to nuke a bitch to keep it that way. (Well. Tony would nuke a bitch. Steve would definitely slap a bitch into another state. Clint and Nat would disappear a bitch... you get the picture.) So fear not friends. There will be some bumps in the road, but there’s going to be a happy ending.

Tony was in the workshop when the call came in. His music turned off, and Jarvis said, “Sir, Peter is calling.”

Tony was flat on his back under a vintage car on a rolly thing, up to his elbows in an engine. “Patch him through J,” he grunted, as the nut he’d been cursing at finally accepted its fate and popped loose. He swore a bit as he banged his knuckles in the process.

Was school out already?

“Tony?” the hesitant shaking voice coming from the ceiling hardly sounded like Peter at all.

Tony froze. Was the kid crying? He slid out from under the car.

“Peter?” he said, as calmly as possible, and sat up. “Peter what’s wrong?”

“I...” there was broken sob. “I... I need you to come get me. Please.”

Somewhere on Peter’s side of the line there was a loud banging noise and some sort of shouting.

Tony felt his blood run cold. “Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’m at school. I’m... I’m in an omega room,” Peter said, sounding as if he was trying very hard to be quiet.

“Are you going into heat Peter?” Tony asked, horrified.

“I... I don’t know!” More banging. “Everyone’s been acting so weird today- I can’t... I can’t breathe- I think - I think I’m dying-” Peter sobbed.

“Calm down. You are _ not _ dying. I know it might feel like it, but you’re not, I promise you. Can you breathe for me?” Tony said urgently, and began the hunt for his shoes. Why the fuck did he always have to work barefoot?

He could hear Peter trying. He found his elusive shoes.

“Did you take your pill this morning Peter?” Tony asked, running scenarios in his head. This should NOT be happening. Even without suppressants the kid should have another month at least before his next heat. But Jesus- if it WAS the kid’s second heat... the poor kid. The second and third heats were just the worst if he remembered right. No way in hell was he going to let Peter go through that in some stupid emergency heat room.

“I did!” Peter said, only slightly hysterically. “I swear!”

“It’s okay sweetheart. There must be something off about the formula or something,” Tony said, throwing a shirt on. “Jarvis, tell Clint to get the quinjet airborne five minutes ago!” he yelled.

“As you wish sir,” Jarvis said.

There was more banging on Peter’s end.

“Peter what on earth is that noise?”

“It’s alphas. They’re... they’re trying to get in,” Peter said weakly.

Tony froze. “They’re... trying to get in?” he repeated carefully. Normally when alphas were confronted with a locked door between themselves and an omega in heat they turned sweet and coaxing, trying to get the omega to come out.

“Yes!” Peter’s voice broke.

But if alphas were actively trying to break down the door-

“Hey, hey. That is _ not _ your fault. Some teachers will by soon and scare them off, okay?” Tony said, beating back panic. Maybe some of the students were just that inexperienced? “But you’re safe, alright?”

“Tony...”

“Yeah kid?”

“They ARE my teachers,” Peter said in a tortured whisper. “They... they chased me in here. I don’t... I can’t...” he sobbed.

“I’m sorry- did... did you just say that you have grown alphas trying to break down the door to your heat room? And that they _ chased _ you there?” Tony was incredulous.

“I’m scared, Tony,” Peter whimpered. “They... they’re so _ angry _-”

Tony’s heart froze. He remembered all too well the first heat he’d had at MIT. He’d been on his own for the first time, and had lost track of his heat cycle. He’d ended up having to walk past an alpha frat house in near full heat on his way to the Omega Center on campus, praying that he’d make it in time to a heat room before his body gave out.

The cat calls had turned violent when they realized that the heat smell was coming from a male. A few of them had chased him with baseball bats, screaming about how he was a “freak.” Rhodey had saved him then - he’d been walking past, heard the shouting, and not only defended Tony, but carried him the rest of the way to the Center. They’d been friends ever since.

Some nights he still wondered what would have happened to him if Rhodey hadn’t been out walking that day.

But it was 2019. Things were different now. There were laws protecting omegas from job discrimination and everything. It’d been a different time all those years ago.

....

_ They were going to tear his pup apart limb from limb. _

He moved faster.

“Sir, Clint wants to know what the emergency is,” Jarvis said.

“Call _ everyone_. Dress for a riot. Peter’s in trouble,” he babbled, and went for one of his Iron Man suits.

“We’re coming Peter!” he shouted. “Jarvis end the call,” he said, and activated his helmet.

“I thought Peter was at school,” Natasha said as Tony clanked his way onto the jet several minutes later.

“He is,” Tony said.

A second later, Steve and Bucky jogged on, dressed in dark tactical gear.

“What’s happening?” Steve asked.

“Something’s wrong with Peter’s suppressants. He’s going into heat at school.”

“Do we really need tactical gear for that?” Bucky asked.

“There’s a group of alpha teachers trying to break down the door to the heat room,” Tony said tersely. “Apparently they chased him there.”

There was a stunned silence. A grown, sexually mature alpha did _ not _ chase omegas down, heat or no heat, unless they were in full blown rut. And even then, other alphas would corral and take the rutting alpha down. For there to be multiple males in rut at the same time... Something was wrong. Very very wrong.

Clint started to take off.

“What the hell?” Bucky said, clearly disturbed. “They work at a fucking SCHOOL. You can’t go to work at a _ school _ when you’re in fucking rut! Please tell me they don’t let rutting alphas into schools in the future?” he asked plaintively.

“They don’t,” Natasha said shortly. “He’s a mutant. Do you think his heat pheromones might be triggering them to go into ruts?” Natasha asked.

“It might be because he’s male,” Tony said bitterly. “Did I ever mention the time I went into heat and got chased by a group of alphas with baseball bats when I was 15?”

There was a beat of silence.

“No. You never told me that,” Steve said, looking pissed.

Tony shrugged.

“Okay... so... worst case scenario: Peter’s heat is triggering full blown ruts,” Natasha said.

“I have a horrible thought,” Clint said.

“Yeah Clint?” Steve asked warily.

“If it’s affecting the teachers that badly, what is it going to do to the kids who just recently presented?”

There was a moment of silence as they all thought about that. The entire immature alpha population of a school... going into rut at the same time.

“How big is Peter’s school again?” Steve asked distantly.

“Peter attends Midtown High, which has an enrollment of 3,321 students,” Jarvis said. “And with alphas making up a little under one forth of the population, there would be around 720 alphas in attendance.”

“I’m getting the tranq guns,” Bucky said, and started rifling through storage compartments.

“No,” Steve said, slipping on his Game Face. He thought for a moment. “No guns.”

“You’re crazy! Going into a school full of rutting alphas and you don’t want to take tranq guns?” Bucky protested.

“We don’t know that it’s that bad yet. So far we have a few teachers acting oddly. We can’t just storm a school armed with military weapons. The panic could hurt more kids than rutting alphas,” Steve said sternly.

“It doesn’t matter what we go in like. We’re going to cause a panic,” Natasha pointed out.

“So fuck it. I’m bringing a tranq gun then,” Bucky rumbled.

“You wanna be the one to explain to Coulson that the reason you took a gun into a school full of children is ‘fuck it’?” Steve said archly.

Bucky froze. “I ain’t scared of Coulson,” he hissed. But he looked at the gun rack like he was having second thoughts.

“Stun batons are in a bottom drawer!” Clint called from the cockpit.

“Great. So now we’re beating rutting children instead of shooting them,” Tony muttered. “That’s SO much better.”

“You’re not beating anyone, Tony. You’re gonna have to lose the suit,” Steve said firmly.

Tony snorted. “Like hell-”

“If Peter isn’t lucid I’m gonna need you and Nat to get him out. He’ll freak out if a giant metal machine gets near him. We need Tony Stark for this, not Iron Man. Bucky and I can take on any alphas on site.” Steve said. “Nat can too, if need be,” he added hastily after she gave him a mild death glare.

“Fine,” Tony hissed. He hated it when his mate made so much sense. “I’m keeping the gauntlets though,” he insisted.

“I have a concern,” Natasha said.

“Go.”

“Are we gonna have to worry about you boys being affected?”

“Are you saying we can’t control ourselves?” Bucky said defensively.

“I’m saying that you’re alphas. In fact, you’re super alphas. If anything, don’t hormones hit you harder than normal?” Natasha asked.

Steve and Bucky shared a confused look. “I... don’t think so?” Steve said hesitantly. “They never really affected me before the serum... I was always so sick...” he mused. “And... I think I do okay now...”

Bucky shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s never come up before. And most people wear scent blockers these days,” Bucky complained. “Can’t even tell an omega from a beta anymore,” he said with a wrinkled nose of disgust.

“That’s exactly why omegas wear them you know,” Tony said darkly.

“If you’re looking to filter pheromones, the gas masks under the floor should work,” Bruce’s voice came from a speaker.

“You listening in, Brucie Bear?” Tony asked.

“You said it was about Peter. I’m worried,” Bruce said.

“Sorry about leaving you behind Doc,” Steve said.

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t say code green so...”

“I found the masks,” Bucky said. “Or at least I think I did. I thought all my old masks were destroyed?”

“We don’t destroy what works,” Tony said, and started the process of getting himself out of suit. “Can someone pull the tab on my legs, please?”

Nat knelt to help him.

“I’ll set up the heat room,” Bruce said.

“Do you have a floor plan for the school Jarvis?” Steve asked.

A map appeared on the floor.

“I have taken the liberty of tracking Mr. Parker’s phone and marking his location,” Jarvis said. “He is in an emergency heat room.” A blinking red dot appeared, right in the middle of the school.

Tony sighed. Of course.

7 minutes later Clint executed a perfect combat landing on a soccer field. Bucky and Steve were jumping off even before Clint had turned the thrusters off. Tony and Natasha were close behind.

They ignored the stares of some teenagers on the track next to the field, and Tony jogged forward to cut a hole through the 6 foot chain link fence with the laser on his gauntlets. Bucky pulled the section free, and they proceeded in silence across the parking lot to the school itself.

The double doors were locked, but that was no trouble for a super soldier foot, and Steve kicked it open almost absently before stalking down the hallway. Bucky followed close behind him.

Somewhere a bell rang. Doors started to swing open.

“GET BACK INSIDE!” Steve shouted. It was loud. Steve could be heard across battlefields without comms if he wanted to.

“You heard him! Back inside!” Natasha barked, and shoved a few kids back into a classroom. “Lock your doors!”

A few people poked their heads out before teachers started hastily pulling them back inside, and slamming the doors shut again. Tony heard some locks going in place.

“Sir, I am detecting several 911 calls from this location,” Jarvis said in Tony’s earpiece.

“Steve we’ve got maybe 5 minutes before the cops show up,” Tony said.

“Copy,” Steve said calmly, and turned right at a junction.

It wasn’t hard to see their destination. A group of 4 alphas were trying to force the door open with a crowbar. 2 of them were armed.

“Oh my god, _ Steve _-,” Tony breathed.

“I see it,” Steve said with his “I’m super pissed right now” calm voice, and walked faster. The alphas were so busy messing with the door that they didn’t even notice their approach.

“BACK AWAY FROM THE HEAT ROOM,” Steve roared, putting the full force of his alpha command behind it.

_ Jesus Christ_, Steve was the hottest thing on the planet, Tony thought. He was totally going to get a blow job when they got back...

To the left of Steve, Bucky put up an impressive snarl/rumble of Challenge. He sounded like a rabid bear with chainsaws for legs.

Somewhere, someone had gotten a hold of the office. An alarm started going off. “Code Red. I repeat. Code Red. This is not a drill. CODE RED,” someone was saying over the PA system.

The alphas froze, and stared at them.

The boys were an impressive sight, even Tony had to admit. Full combat gear with those stupidly intimidating masks from Bucky’s Winter Soldier days, and armed with batons. If Tony didn’t know them, he’d be running for the hills already.

Tony, by contrast, was wearing flip flops, a greasy black wife beater, and sweatpants. Which, ya know, wouldn’t normally be a problem because you can’t see what he’s wearing when he’s in his suit. He’s worn less before. He’s even gone naked once. (But never again. The chaffing had been awful.)

At least Nat looked nice in her catsuit. Tony has never figured out how the hell she gets into the thing so fast. Baby oil maybe?

An alpha by the door made a move for his side-arm and Tony moved to be more behind Steve. Dear god, they were putting a set of body armor on the jet for him when this was over.

Steve moved his left arm just so and a mini black shield appeared. It was more oval than the red and blue vibranium disc he normally carried, but it still got the job done. And the point across.

Two of the alphas started to back away. The two armed ones held their ground.

“You are trespassing in a school-” one of them said. It was impressive that his voice only wavered slightly.

“I said back away from the heat room!” Steve shouted. “Move or you will be moved!”

“Cooops,” Tony sang out, just to be obnoxious because he was antsy like that. They weren’t exactly decked out in their recognizable Avenger’s gear right now, and Tony was in no mood to try to soothe the ruffled feathers of the NYPD when they responded to the the “armed intruders at a school” call that was no doubt going out right now. Not when Peter needed to be home. Like now.

That seemed to spur Steve and Bucky into action. They both moved together towards the armed guards.

One of the guards got a shot off, but it bounced off Steve’s shield and the boys had them on their backs and hog tied in less than a minute. The other two alphas made a run for it, dropping the crowbar to the floor as they went. Steve took off after them. 

Tony and Nat went to the door. “Sweetheart, open up!” Natasha said.

“We’re here Peter. Open the door,” Tony said loudly.

Silence. Tony laid his head against it, and heard only muffled sobs.

“Stand back,” he said to Nat, and she scooted away immediately. Tony used his laser to cut through the lock. He tried the door. It was jammed on something.

“Bucky?” Tony said.

Bucky punched through the door, and bent it backwards with his metal arm. The metal folding chair that had been wedged behind it screamed as it came along for the ride. Bucky thoughtfully kicked it down the hall, and out of the way.

“Thank you,” Tony said automatically, and slid inside. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was sickly sweet with a metallic under taste. He wrinkled his nose. That was... wrong. He’d heard of heat scent being likened to apples or maybe roses. Nat’s smelled like oranges (or so she'd told him). But this was... burned white sugar. And he’d _ never _ heard of metal in a heat scent.

Also, the room was empty.

“What the fuck-”

Nat touched his arm and pointed upwards.

Peter was curled up into a whimpering ball in a corner of the ceiling.

Natasha sighed, staring up at the boy that was very much out of their reach. “This just got hard,” she said.

“Tony?” Steve called from outside.

“He’s on the ceiling and I forgot the damn broom at home!” Tony snapped back.

Beside him, Natasha huffed.

Tony took a breath. “Okay... okay... Peter? I need you to come down now, okay?” Tony said as softly as possible.

Peter whimpered, but did not move.

“I have chocolate chip ice cream for you at home,” he offered, “You want some ice cream?” The boy was a sucker for sweets.

The whimpering stopped, and was replaced by a guarded noise of interest.

“Steve will make you some waffles,” Natasha added. “You can have waffles and ice cream for dinner,” she offered softly.

“Tony?” Peter asked, sounding drunk.

“I told you I’d come. I need you to get down, okay? Can you do that?” Tony asked.

Peter seemed unsure. “Alphas,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Steve beat them all up for you, sweet pea,” Tony cooed. “Hit them with his shield and everything.”

Peter considered this, but didn’t move.

“We don’t have time for this,” Natasha muttered. “Steve get in here and tell him to get down!” she called into the hallway.

Steve didn’t even pop his head in. “Peter. _ Get down_,” he said, using a bit of his alpha voice from the hallway.

Peter dropped off the ceiling. Tony, not expecting this at all, lunged forward to try to catch the teenager, and missed completely. The boy fell with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, and the sound Peter’s body made when it hit the floor was one that would haunt Tony’s nightmares for years to come.

“Oh god. Nonononono,” Tony whispered, and rushed forward. “Peter?” he yelled.

The boy on the floor didn’t move.

Tony hovered anxiously, at once wanting to pick the boy up and never let him go again, and also deathly afraid that the kid had broken his neck, and moving him would paralyze him forever.

Natasha didn’t seem to share his fear, and all but shoved Tony out of the way as she checked on the boy.

“He’s out of it. Head wound,” she said, in that calm detached voice that meant that she was actually freaking out.

“I KNOW that-” Tony hissed. “I watched him fucking LAND on it! Aren’t you supposed to not move people when they fall like that?”

Nat pressed her lips together.

Now Steve popped his head in. “What the hell- SHIT,” he cursed when he saw Peter. “What happened?”

“SOMEONE TOLD HIM TO GET DOWN!” Tony yelled, scared and angry.

Steve looked like he’d been stabbed. “Oh god,” he muttered.

“Steve, we need to move-” Bucky said. “If we don’t do it now it’ll be hours before we can sort it out with the cops.”

“I agree with Bucky,” Nat said.

“We could paralyze him!”

“He’s a super, Tony. He’ll be fine,” Natasha said. “And we’ll be really fucking careful, okay?”

Tony swore. Then swore some more.

He took a breath. “Fine. But Steve’s not carrying him.”

Steve blinked at him. “What- why?”

“Because at this rate you’ll sneeze on him and give him the fucking bubanic plague or something, that’s why!” Tony yelled.

Steve sighed. “I won’t give him the plague, Tony-” he said wearily.

“SARS then-” Tony snapped.

“I’ll carry him,” Bucky said, shoving Steve out of the doorway. “He’ll be _ fine_, Stark. Cool it.”

Tony hovered, feeling like a useless, anxious mess while Bucky and Natasha worked together to get the kid off the ground without moving his neck too much.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

“Move out, Stevie,” Bucky said.

They hustled.

It was odd, moving through the full, yet eerily quiet school. The hallways were empty. Everyone must have found a shelter.

They didn’t slow down.

It was none too soon. As they were crossing the parking lot, Tony could hear police sirens getting closer.

The second Bucky put Peter down on the emergency cot built into the quinjet’s wall, Clint took off.

“Nat get me the emergency suppressant,” Tony said. They should have taken it with them. Why the fuck were they so stupid sometimes?

She slapped it into his hand a few seconds later, and Tony injected Peter’s thigh with it, while she fitted a neck brace and an oxygen mask to the boy.

The kid groaned, and started panting.

Tony slipped an oxygen and pulse sensor on Peter’s finger. He frowned at the numbers. “Up the O2 J,” he ordered, as Peter’s scent spiked in just... wrongness. The kid was sick. And not just with whatever the fuck was going on with his heat and a possible concussion.

“104.7,” Nat reported, again in that super calm voice of hers.

Tony sighed. That was high. Too high, even for a heat.

“Tony...” Steve said hesitantly.

Tony ignored him.

“Tony, this doesn’t feel right-”

“I know that!” Tony snapped. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Jarvis, call Bruce and tell him to start making phone calls. We can get him stable when we get back, but we’re going to need some specialists.”

“Right away sir,” Jarvis said. “I will also forward his pulse and oxygen numbers.”

Tony rubbed his face. “Steve, keep your mask on until we get back. I have no idea what set those idiots off,” he said.

“Copy that,” Bucky said, and retreated to the back, tugging Steve after him. “Give the Os some space, Stevie,” he murmured.

It was a very long and tense 10 minutes to get back to the tower.


	5. Ice Ice Baby

They landed on the helipad on the top of the Tower. Bruce was there to meet them, as were a large portion of the doctors from the medbay.

“I’ve got an omega specialist coming in from Metro-General-” Bruce said.

“That’s wonderful. In the meantime, we need to clear any and all alphas out of the MedBay-”

Bruce looked horrified. “Tony- I... I don’t know if I can do that- the anti-discrimination laws cut both ways, you know that-”

“Bruce, Peter’s scent is WEIRD. Like, off the scales weird. And those alphas at his school didn’t just roll out of bed and say ‘I’m gonna beat up an omega today’,” Tony countered. “His mutation could be affecting his hormones, and until we know what’s going on, I don’t want to risk him being beaten to death because some alpha has a bad reaction.”

Bruce still looked pained. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said finally, and went to follow the rest of the doctors.

“I can afford the lawsuits!” Tony shouted after him. “I don’t care who you offend! Just fucking bill me!”

“Tony- hey. Hey-” Steve was saying, soft and low. He caught Tony by an arm and drew him in for a hug. “It’s gonna be okay baby,” he murmured.

Tony melted into his alpha’s embrace, and let out a stressed sigh as Steve ran fingers through his hair. God that felt good. He was right of course. Peter would be fine. He was a super, and Steve-

_ Steve. _

He was pissed at Steve right now. And not just normal pissed, but super pissed. That blow job Tony had been planning on giving him had been downgraded into no blowjobs ever again after that stunt Steve had pulled with his alpha voice.

He pushed himself free of the embrace. “Don’t...” he managed, and shook his head. Stupid stupid omega brain, making him think his alpha was awesome when he was really an idiot.

“I need to go check on Peter,” he said. He could hear the stress in his own voice. “No alphas in the medbay until we figure this out. So if you stab yourself or something, feel free to bleed out in a bathroom,” he said dismissively, then instantly hid a wince.

That was harsh. Maybe too harsh. But he needed to see Peter. Needed to call the Aunt. Needed to meet with the specialist and run some tests to make sure Peter hadn’t mutated even more due to puberty or a growth spurt like the X-Men did. (God, did he have Xavier’s number? Could he just google it? Maybe Pepper would know. She knew everything. Oh god, he needed to call her and let her know what was happening and call his lawyers- SOMEONE was going to be sued over this, and he had a horrible feeling it would be him... )

He was muttering a list of things to do by the time he hit the elevators, and thus completely missed the heart broken look on Steve’s face.

40 minutes later, Tony was ready to spit nails. He couldn’t get a hold of the freakin’ Aunt- he’d explained that it was a family emergency, but the receptionist had promised that she’d “do the best she could,” and then apparently dropped off the face of the earth. He was five seconds away from just sending Happy to go camp out in the damn hospital, and kick down doors if need be.

Pepper was in another freaking state- he thought it was maybe Missouri? (God knows why. All he knew that it was in the middle of BumFuckNowhereVille). Anyway, she wasn’t HERE. And so she was having to fly back, but there was a storm and it might be another hour or so before her plane would be allowed to even take off...

And now- FUCKING NOW- the “omega specialist” that Bruce had called had finally, _ finally _wandered in. How the hell did it take over 40 minutes to get from Metro-General to the Tower? Tony was sure it was more like 15. What was the POINT of being a billionaire if people didn’t come running when you called?

And... of course the dude was a fucking alpha. Tony could smell him well before he saw him, and was immediately turned off. How the hell did he keep omega clients _ smelling _ like that? Tony wondered as he shook the man’s hand.

“Doctor- umm...” Tony trailed off. He somehow missed the guy’s name.

“Doctor Angelo,” the guy said. He was old, with graying hair, and had a firm handshake and reassuring, but obviously fake smile. He also looked like he should be toddering around a nursing home somewhere. “Don’t worry Mr. Stark. She’s in good hands now.”

Tony blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Angelo blinked, his confidence wavering for a split second. “Your omega? I understand she was in some sort of accident?”

Tony took a breath. “Okay. So. _ He _ is an omega,” Tony said. “And yes there was an incident... also not mine. Doesn’t matter. What matters-” Tony said, and grabbed a hastily modified gas mask off a nearby desk, “is that you’re going to need to wear this when you see him.”

He held out the mask. It had been a compromise. Dr. Connors, the lead doctor of the Med Bay, was a beta as were the rest of the doctors, but several of the nurses were alphas. The agreement was that the alpha nurses would stay away as much as possible, but would wear masks if they had to come check on Peter.

The doctor looked baffled. “I’m sorry? Did you just say... he?”

“Yes. He’s a he.”

The doctor considered. “Is she... transgender?” he asked, his expression struggling to stay neutral, and only mildly failing. He sounded like he was asking if Peter was secretly a cockroach or something. Tony frowned. There were so many layers of just... wrong with that question that he was thrown off as to what to address first...

“Giving her male hormones would certainly cause complications-”

“No,” Tony said. “HE is not transgender.”

Now the doctor looked confused. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand- is the omega on male hormones or not?”

“They were born male. And they happen to be an omega. So. _ He. _” Tony was struggling to stay civil. How was this in any way hard to understand? “Also his name is Peter. And you have to wear the mask.”

You’d think the mask would be the sticking point, seriously.

The doctor considered this. He seemed to be struggling with the concept. Dr. Asswipe finally spotted the mask in Tony’s hands. “Is she... sorry. They contagious?”

Tony sighed and told himself to be fucking reasonable. This one time. He would be reasonable. For Peter. He would not throw him off the tower. At least, not off the top floor.

“Peter is... very special. He’s a mutant. We think it may be possible that his mutation is making his hormones extra potent. So. Until we figure it out, I’m going to have to ask you to wear the mask. As a precaution.”

The doctor looked amused. “I can assure you Mr. Stark, I’ve worked with omegas for over 40 years, and I’ve _ never _ taken advantage of a patient-”

Tony sighed again. “That... is not what I’m worried about. We’re worried that his hormones are making alphas violent. Four fully grown alphas tried to break down the door to his heat room.”

The doctor blinked, and looked appalled. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t wear the mask, Mr. Stark. A lot of diagnosing omegas all happens here,” the man tapped his nose.

It was Tony’s turn to blink. “Are you_ serious_?” Tony asked. “It’s 2019. Don’t you do... blood tests or something? Scans?”

The man snorted. “Don’t need to. And don’t worry, Mr. Stark. I have very good control of myself. I’m not offended. It’s always the first thing the alpha husbands bring up,” the doctor said, with another smarmy knowing smile.

Wow.

Just... wow. The balls on this dude. Tony was more annoyed than impressed, to be truthful. People only usually talked to him with this much confidence because they had their own stash of nuclear missiles somewhere in the country they owned. Sorry- the country that they’d been “fairly elected to lead”.

“And where is the omega?” the doctor asked. “Sh- I’m sorry. They are in distress?”

Patience Stark, he told himself. Taser him and toss him off the building later. Remember Peter? We’re being reasonable for Peter.

“I’ll take you to him,” Tony said, after a moment's hesitation. Alpha or not, he WAS an old man and Tony could take him if had to. He'd lifted weights for most of his life. One ancient alpha should be okay.

Right.

Oh god, he _ hated _ this. Everything in his gut was screaming at him, saying this was the WORST idea ever. What if the old man went feral or some nonsense?

He flicked his wrist, and a tiny taser appeared out his watchband. He palmed it, and opened the door to Peter’s room with his free hand. He watched as the doctor walked past him and into the room. If he so much as sneezed wrong that old man was going _ down. _

The man frowned when he saw Peter laid out unconscious on the hospital bed. The kid was naked, with a small towel thrown over his pelvis for modesty. Large clear hefty bags dripping with condensation had been shoved into the kid’s armpits, one side of his neck, and his groin. He had an IV going with liquid suppressants and saline, and more sticky pads with wires on his chest than was probably necessary. A cannula delivering O2 rested under his nose. Around him a group of monitors beeped regularly.

The doctor felt one of the bags, and his frown deepened. “Ice?” he asked.

“He was running a serious fever and it kept going up. The highest was 105.1 before we put the ice on him. As of five minutes ago, he was back down to 104.6. So, it’s working.”

Working, but ridiculous. They’d literally raided the cafeteria kitchens for both the bags and the ice from the ice maker. It was so primitive it was practically disgusting.

The next time he had a spare five minutes he’d have to invent something better. It was 2019, for god's sake. And the best they could do was a shit load of ice in trash bags? Unacceptable.

“He’s in heat. But he shouldn’t be. He was on suppressants and he literally only presented two months ago. Even if they weren’t working he shouldn’t be due for another month at the latest-” he babbled.

The doctor carefully picked up a slender arm and inhaled deeply at the scent gland there in the wrist. Tony tensed and gritted his teeth. The doctor put the arm down then leaned over and inhaled deeply again an inch from Peter’s throat. Tony had to physically keep himself from tasering the old man there and then. Scenting on the throat was something only mates and pack members did. And he was decidedly neither.

The doctor hummed thoughtfully, and Tony watched him like a hawk. He probably should have asked a couple of masked alpha nurses to be with him, he realized. God. What was with him and making bad decisions today?

He held the taser tighter in his hand and tried to calm himself. Going crazy and tasering a doctor for being an ass would help no one, even if would probably make him feel better. Even if the dick clearly deserved it.

He at the very least could wait until he got a diagnosis out of the old geezer.

The doctor picked up the modesty hand towel, and picked up the ice - and yes, he was staring at Peter’s junk.

_ Don’t taser the doctor. Don’t taser the doctor. Don’t taser the doctor. _

Thankfully he replaced the ice without actually touching anything, and replaced the towel.

“Who told you he was an omega?” Dr. Stupid said, frowning down at Peter.

“He presented two months ago,” Tony repeated.

“And you know this because-” the doctor trailed off.

“Because he told me?” Tony lied, wondering where the hell this was going.

What had actually happened was the kid had collapsed while out in his Spidersuit. The suit’s AI had called Tony, who’d then left his dinner party to haul the kid back to the tower. It wasn’t until he’d stripped the suit off the teen and literally hosed the vomit off him in the penthouse’s shower that Tony had smelled traces of slick and the faint sweet stink of a First Heat. Combine that with a raised temperature, and the fact that he could FEEL Peter’s organs moving around in his stomach when Tony pressed on it- the kid was in his first ever heat.

He’d had spent the rest of the night stripped down to his boxers in a tub filled with cool water, cuddling the mostly incoherent teenager, trying to keep him comfortable and to keep him from drowning in the process, as Peter’s organs literally rearranged themselves.

It had not been a fun night, especially considering that he’d initially assumed that the kid was black out drunk, and had yelled at him accordingly. He didn’t think he’d ever quite forgive himself for that. Thankfully, like most omegas, Peter had very little memory of his First Heat other than falling over and being completely miserable.

“And have you knotted him?”

Tony’s brain went offline for a moment. There was literally a million things wrong with that sentence. First of all, officially to the public, he was a beta with an alpha mate. He wore scent blockers religiously just to fool people into thinking he was a beta. So, even in the public lie, he had no knot to... knot with.

Secondly... was the fucking doctor insane? He’d just told him the kid had presented 2 months ago! You can’t safely knot an omega until _ at least _ their 3rd heat! The first two were... warms ups if you will. Stuff to get the body into shape or some nonsense. Knotting an omega after their first heat would hurt them just the same as knotting a beta or alpha would.

“He’s 15! This would literally be his second heat!”

The doctor gave him a blank “I officially won’t judge you but I’m totally judging you” look.

“No,” Tony snarled through gritted teeth. Fuck this doctor. “He’s untouched.”

The doctor sighed. “Well, I’m very sorry to break it to you, Mr. Stark-”

_ Oh god... what was it? _

“But he’s not an omega.”

“What?” Tony’s voice was flat.

“I don’t know what he told you,” the man said calmly. “But he just isn’t.”

“What?” Tony asked. “He’s in heat! I know what fucking heat smells like-”

The doctor gave him a sad “but do you really though?” smug smile that made Tony want to punch him in the face. “To be frank, ‘omega in heat’ scent is available readily at any sex shop. It can actually be quite beneficial for older alphas who struggle in the bedroom. I’m afraid you’ve been fooled, Mr. Stark. If anything, I’d say he’s an underdeveloped alpha who got into some bad cocaine. Thus the fever, and... the strange smell.”

“What?” Was he on earth? Was the doctor high? Was _ Tony _ high? He didn’t remember doing well, anything in... god. Several years. Did someone spike his coffee?

“You should really get your nose checked, Mr. Stark. You can smell the alpha on him quite intensely.” He pursed his lips. “He really is shockingly underdeveloped, considering his scent. His scent blockers probably have worn off since this morning...”

Underdeveloped....? Tony blinked, and he felt his brain reboot again. Was the old man... making a comment on Peter’s dick size right now? Seriously? He was god damned omega with a literal ice pack on his junk! What the fucking HELL? Even Steve- well. Bad example. _ But_. Even normal alphas would be... small with literal ice on their literal junk.

The doctor shrugged. “I’ve been working with omegas for over 40 years,” he said with a patronizing smile. “Never seen a male omega. But I do, sadly, know what a drug binge smells like. I know it’s hard to hear- I don’t really know what he told you to convince you-”

“Get out,” the words are cold.

“Mr. Stark-” the patronizing factor went up a millionfold. “I’m not really sure what’s going on here, but I’m telling you- he’s _ not _an omega-”

“You have about 30 seconds to get out of this room before I throw you through that fucking door-” Tony snarled, getting up into the Doctor’s personal space.

“Mr. Stark-”

“25. 24. 23.” Tony counted. He puffed out his chest and crowded the doctor. He wasn’t an alpha himself, but he knew a few tricks. It wasn’t for nothing that his mate was the strongest and most grandstanding alpha in existence. _ The idiot. _

The doctor gave a displeased frown and a “rich people are so stupid” shake of his head, and left.

Jesus fucking Christ. On a stick.

He collapsed in a chair and took a moment to collect himself. Right. Doctor was a bust. Move onward and upwards. Only option.

“Jarvis?” he asked tiredly.

“Yes sir?”

“Those genetic tests come back yet?”

“I estimate that I will have results in another hour. May I point out sir that it has been approximately 32 hours since you last slept-"

Tony rolled his eyes. “No,” he said. “And call Happy, tell him to go get the Aunt, and to not take no for an answer. Kidnap her if he has to.”

“Yes sir,” Jarvis said.

“And Pepper,” he recited. “What’s her ETA?”

“She is currently in the air sir. ETA to the tower is approximately 3 hours.”

“And Natasha?”

“She is sitting out in the hallway,” Jarvis said.

_ Thank fuck. _ At least _ someone _ was right where he needed them. He poked his head out the door of the private room. “Hey,” he said. He wondered when she got here.

Natasha looked up from her magazine. “How’d it go?”

Tony sighed. “Terrible. He tried to tell me that the kid was a quote ‘underdeveloped alpha with a cocaine problem’.”

Natasha blinked at him. “What?” It was so rare to see her truly shocked. Normally he’d treasure such moments, but today he was just too tired.

“That’s what I said. Repeatedly.”

“Are we sure he had a medical license?” she asked seriously.

“I... I don’t even know. The good news is that at least we know know that smelling him doesn’t send alphas into a blind rage,” Tony said, rubbing his face tiredly. “So-”

Behind him, the monitors started beeping like crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry/Not Sorry for all the cliff hangers.


	6. Blue's Clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is supposed to be clever. Just imagine Bucky pointing at bits of Steve’s life while sputtering in incoherent rage while Steve takes notes and desperately tries to figure out the blindingly obvious. Or, at least, this is what I imagined when I wrote this chapter. 
> 
> The Plot Clarification/Edit Fairy has visited this chapter. If it feels like this chapter is different from the last time you read it, you’re right.

Steve was sulking. The super soldier beefcake, and otherwise prime piece of alpha ass draped himself over the breakfast bar in the guest suite and heaved a long, pitiful sigh and whined like a pup.

The two alphas had showered and changed into civvies, and were raiding the kitchen looking for something to eat.

Bucky graced Steve with some serious side-eye but otherwise ignored him as he dug through the cabinets.

“Jeez Stevie. Let me know how you really feel,” Bucky said sarcastically.

“He said I should bleed out in a bathroom, Buck,” Steve whined. “He _ hates _ me.”

“Calm down. You’re overreacting,” Bucky said.

Steve gave a small growl and flopped over to face Bucky. “He said I was going to give Peter the _ plague_, Buck. I don’t think that even _ exists _ anymore,” he whined.

“You’re takin’ it too personal. He’s an omega, Steve. Omegas are always super dramatic when it comes to hurt pups. Remember your Ma? She’d nearly lose her shit whenever you’d come home with a bloody nose, and that was near every other day-”

“I was half dead with pneumonia for nearly my entire life Buck,” Steve countered. “Of course she lost her shit over everything.”

“Yeah and my Ma was a beta. She never lost her shit, even when you was taking last rites-”

Steve frowned slightly. “Which time?” he asked.

“All of them. She’d come over and sit with your Ma through the night while we watched you.”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve said slowly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You don’t remember because you were almost dead, punk. That’s why they’re called ‘last rites’.”

Steve snorted. “Jerk,” he said, but only out of fond reflex.

Bucky found a box of pop tarts and made an excited noise. “Strawberry! Yes!”

Steve looked at him with wide eyes. “Where did you get those?” he said urgently.

Bucky frowned, but didn’t stop mauling them open. “In the cabinet.”

“And before that?”

Bucky shrugged.

“If those are Thor’s, I’ve never met you before in my life,” Steve said firmly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy him a new box when he gets back,” he said, mouth already half full of poptart. “Don’t freak out.”

Steve sighed, and resumed his dramatic moping.

“Oh stop being so dramatic. It’s not like he’s kicked you out of the bedroom-”

“But he _ has _-”

Bucky frowned, and ripped open another packet of pop tarts. “Since when? I know you crashed here last night to give him time to cool off-”

“He banned me from the common FLOORS Bucky. That’s where our bedroom is.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, his face wrinkled in confusion. 

Steve sighed miserably. “You know the penthouse that's above the common floor? That's _supposed_ to be ours?" 

Bucky made a noise of agreement.

"He never goes there outside of his heats! He sleeps either on a futon in the lab or in a nest in a little room off the common room. He says the penthouse is ‘too quiet’.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “Wait. Wait. He sleeps in a nest on the common floor?”

“Yes.”

“So you... sleep there with him?”

“Yes.”

Bucky considered this. “Is that room sound proof or something because I’ve never heard -” he stopped. He slowly and dramatically turned to stare at Steve properly.

“What?” Steve demanded, alarmed.

“You guys sleep in a basically a nap room on the common floor?”

“Yeah?” Steve said, confused.

“And not once have I ever heard anyone complain about you guys being too loud. EVER.”

Steve frowned, his confusion clearly intensified. “Why would we be loud?” he asked.

Bucky stared at him as if Steve’s forehead contained the mysteries of the universe. “You are such a fucking _ virgin_, Stevie.”

“What?!” Steve looked lost.

Bucky gave Steve a pointed look. “Are you knotting him outside of his heats?” he asked seriously. 

Steve choked on air. “What?”

“_Please _ tell me you are at least fucking him outside his heats,” Bucky continued desperately.

Steve sputtered into silence and suddenly could not look Bucky in the eye.

“None of your business, jerk,” Steve muttered.

“Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. Are you serious right now?”

Steve tried to hide a wince, and squirmed. “There’s more to life than sex, Bucky,” he said with approximately zero conviction. Steve had always been a shit liar.

“Jesus Christ Stevie!” Bucky shouted, upset on his behalf. He stared at Steve in horror for almost a full minute.

“What?” Steve demanded.

“You wanna know what it’s called when you only have sex when an omega’s in heat?”

Steve looked like he’d rather sink into the floor than know the answer to that. “No. But you’re gonna tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

“Heat Buddies,” Bucky said with feeling.

Steve flinched, then scowled. “I ain’t a fucking Heat Buddy,” he grumbled. “I marked him and everythin’. He’s my MATE.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows and gave Steve a Look. “Uh huh.”

“I did!” Steve protested, a little too forcefully.

“And your last rut-” Bucky prompted.

“He was in Japan. It was important,” Steve protested.

"And the one before that...?" Bucky questioned.

Steve squirmed. "Australia," he said, his voice small.

“Your ruts are like clockwork, you moron!”

“It was an emergency!” Steve shouted, louder than strictly necessary.

“What, both times? Why didn’t Pepper take care of it?”

“She was... elsewhere.”

“Uh huh.”

“She was! Fuck, Bucky! You know my memory goes to shit around my ruts. What does it matter anyway-” Steve protested.

Bucky gave him a Look. “He ain’t some beta, Steve.”

Steve wrinkled his nose with confusion. “I... I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” he complained.

“He’s an omega- right?”

“Yeess...”

“And he’s mated to an alpha, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “And?”

“He sure don’t act like it unless it’s convenient for _ him_,” Bucky said, “like for example- when he’s in heat.”

Steve groaned. “Now you’re being dramatic,” he complained. “I don’t need an omega to get through my ruts.”

“And he don’t need an alpha neither. So why are you stuck taking care of him-”

“In case you’ve forgotten Buck, taking care of an omega in heat ain’t exactly hell,” Steve snapped, then stopped cold.

Bucky’s lack of ... “game” (for lack of a better word) had become one of those quiet unspoken forbidden topics they had. Like how Bucky’s sister Becca had died not long after Steve had- or how she might have lived if Steve had pulled his head out of his ass to live long enough to go home after the war ended to take care of her. Like he’d promised.

Or why they both hated the cold.

Steve sucked in a breath, and braced for... he didn’t know.

Bucky likewise, tensed. For a second, in the sudden screaming silence, Bucky’s arm whirred as it calibrated. A sure sign of him being agitated.

“Sorry,” Steve said quietly. “I... you know I didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” Bucky lied. “But it don’t mean that it’s alright, what he’s doing to you.”

“And what is he doing, Bucky?” Steve asked quietly, carefully.

“_Using _ you. Like his father did. They took advantage of you Stevie. You _ know _ they did. Filling your head with all that patriotic nonsense, then pumping you full of that crap-” Bucky said tiredly. It was not the first time they’d been down this road- so much so it might as well have ruts in it from frequent use.

Steve sighed. Sometimes he wondered if Buck would ever get over it. Ever forgive him. He always seemed to forget Steve had been full of righteous patriotism well before he’d ever met Erskine.

“Yeah, well. I’m here with you so- it all can’t have been too bad.” Steve said, and tried a smile. It was a tired smile, but it asked silently: ‘Truce?’

Bucky glared at him for a moment before sighing, and giving in. Like he always did.

“Fucking punk,” Bucky grumbled. “And you know if it weren’t for me you’d have given away all your kidneys by now-”

Steve snorted, and rolled his eyes. “My kidneys, Buck? Really?”

“They would have sold you this lie about how they’d grow back and shoved some crying kid at you and boom- no more kidneys,” Bucky rambled. “Never could save nothin’ cuz of your soft heart-” he continued.

Steve sighed. Another road with ruts in. When Buck got this way it was best to change the subject, otherwise he’d talk in circles and start to spiral into a funk.

“Jarvis?” Steve asked the ceiling.

“Yes, Captain?”

Bucky snorted, knowing full well what Steve was doing.

“How’s the kid?”

“They're treating him with ice.”

Steve and Bucky shared a look.

“Ice?” Bucky asked, confused.

“Mr. Parker is currently suffering from a high fever. The doctors packed him with ice to reduce it.”

Bucky made a face. “What? They still do that?” he asked incredulously. “I thought this was the future.”

“Sir feels the same way, Sergeant Barnes.”

“How bad is it Jarvis?” Steve asked.

“The doctor was more concerned at how fast his fever was rising than his current temperature. The ice has already proven to be effective. It is believed he should be within a more reasonable temperature in a few hours.”

As one, both men shuddered.

“I think that’s enough about ice, Building,” Bucky said dryly.

“Of course sir. I shall inform you if anything changes.”

“Thank you Jarvis,” Steve said, because he was raised to be polite.

“My pleasure.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky. “Building? Still?”

“What? He don’t mind.”

Steve shook his head. “He has a _ name _ Bucky.”

Bucky sighed. “And he don’t _ mind. _ I don’t know why you always get all upset about it.”

“Because it makes you sound like an asshole.”

“I didn’t know me being an asshole was news,” Bucky snarked back. “It’s what I’ve always called him. You don’t mind, do you Building?”

“No I do not,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

“See?”

“Still an asshole Buck.”

Bucky pointedly took a gigantic bite of a poptart.

“Gentlemen,” a voice called out from the doorway. “I trust there’s a reason why I had to find out about the Avengers storming a high school from Twitter?”

Steve slid off the breakfast bar and sat up straight. “Coulson,” he said tiredly, and idly cracked his knuckles.

Bucky froze for a split second, and gave Coulson a nod of acknowledgement as he chewed his pop tart.

Their signal for “keep your fucking mouth shut” was as old as time itself.

Coulson stepped into the kitchen area, impeccable as always in his suit, and surveyed them. “Well?” he asked.

Steve shrugged. “Not much to tell,” he said slowly. “Kid called for an emergency evac. So we went.”

Coulson stared right through him for a moment. Steve pointedly did not squirm. Coulson was a Beta and Steve would eat Bucky’s tact vest before he’d willingly let on just how much the unassuming man... intimidated him.

“He needed an emergency evac from his high school?” Coulson asked skeptically.

“He’s in the Med Bay right now,” Bucky said. It was an easily verifiable fact that told nothing. It was allowed.

Coulson considered this. Stared at them. Then at the room around them. Steve could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“So he’s injured enough for an emergency evac, but you two aren’t in Med Bay, because...”

Bucky and Steve doubled down their “I’m just a big dumb alpha” looks.

Bucky shrugged. “Didn’t want to get in the way,” he said simply.

“And it has nothing to do with the Alpha ban Stark tried to implement in the Med Bay earlier?”

“Didn’t know you could do that,” Steve said amicably. “Did you Buck?”

“No I didn’t. Thought there were laws against such things now a days. Since we’re in the future now and all,” Bucky agreed amicably, his face carefully blank. “Must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

Coulson eyed them. His gaze landed on the mangled pop tart box.

Bucky and Steve stared back blankly.

Coulson’s eyes didn’t quite narrow.

“Was Agent Romanoff injured during this... ‘evac’?” Coulson asked.

“No,” Steve said.

“Was _ anyone _ injured?” Coulson pressed.

“I stubbed my toe on a folding chair,” Bucky said. “You wanna see?”

Coulson gave his best, most polite “I see your shit and I’m onto you” smile.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “I think I’m going to go check in on Peter. See how he’s doing,” Coulson said, and turned to leave.

Steve made the mistake of relaxing slightly.

Coulson stopped midway out the door.

“By the way- just out of curiosity- why _ are _ you two here? I’d think the common floor would be more comfortable.”

Buck came to the rescue, as always. “No reason. Just airing it out,” he said.

Steve picked up Buck’s thread, and nodded. “A change of scenery is nice sometimes,” he said.

“A change of scenery.” Coulson said, and pointedly looked around the very bare, very sparse guest suite and the couch that looked like someone had been camping on it. “Of course.”

His “I’m onto you” smile changed into his more subtle “I’m totally going to figure this out and nail you for it just because I’m tired of dealing with this shit” smile. It was a smile he wore surprisingly often. Usually it was directed at other people, though.

Steve and Bucky held firm to their “I’m just a stupid alpha” positions and carefully blank smiles.

“Gentlemen,” Coulson said, and left.

Steve and Bucky waited for a beat- just in case he lingered.

“Wanna tell me why we’re lying to Coulson now?” Bucky asked.

Steve considered. “SHIELD doesn’t know he’s an omega.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “What- the kid?”

“And Tony,” Steve said calmly.

“Really? You really think Fury don’t know? Stark takes a week long ‘vacation’ every three months like clockwork. You really think he’s not noticed?”

“Male omegas don’t exist. Tony’s eccentric. Everyone knows this,” Steve said carefully. “We gain nothing by them knowing.”

Bucky stared at him for a moment. “And if they knew?” he asked pointedly.

Steve considered. “There are some... rules that ban omegas from being in combat,” he said slowly.

Bucky blinked. “What about Nat?” he asked, baffled.

“She doesn’t have heats anymore. She doesn’t... they don’t consider her a ‘real omega’,” Steve said.

Bucky snarled. “Well, that’s some bullshit. You really think Fury would ground Tony and Peter?”

Steve shrugged. “Fuck if I know, Buck. That’s why it’s safer to play it close to our chest. Fury doesn’t need to know, so we won’t tell him.”

“Won’t the doctors tell him?”

Steve shook his head. “The head doctor works for Stark Industries, not SHIELD. Tony made sure of that. He won’t tell the others anything they don’t need to know, and apparently there’s laws against looking at charts or something... Tony said something about a Hippo*? I don’t know. Anyway, he has it covered.”

Their eyes met.

“Well, ain't this some shit,” Bucky grumbled. “Can’t even trust our backup to have our backs.”

Steve sighed, and rubbed his face. “Some days I wonder if Fury has ever had our backs,” he said tiredly. “Or if we’re just... attack dogs that he thinks are useful. We _ have _ to protect Tony and Bruce,” he said doggedly. “And now- Peter. Especially Peter.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow. “So Clint, Nat, and Sam are on their own then?”

“They’ll outlive us all,” Steve said, with a faint smile. “Plus they know how to run _ away _ from danger. Unlike the rest of us. It’s the Omegas and Bruce we have to worry about really. They’re the civilians.”

Bucky snorted. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said. He offered Steve a pop tart. “Pack comes first,” he said.

“Pack comes first,” Steve agreed. But he didn’t take the pop tart. Only fools ate Thor’s pop tarts. He’d been foolish enough today already.

It was time to get off his ass and start moving pieces on the board. Moping over Tony wasn’t helping anyone, and he needed to get ahead of SHIELD. He needed to sic Clint on that school and find out what happened.

And he needed to call in Sam from D.C. If this thing with Peter turned out to be some sort of attack, Sam might be next. Combine that with Coulson sticking his nose in places he shouldn’t... it was time to start circling the wagons.

Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Steve is referring to HIPAA. Which is a law about the confidentiality of medical records.
> 
> Thor isn’t technically a part of the pack. He’s more... pack ally than anything, mainly because 1) he’s an alien with no second gender and 2) he’s usually out in space. So he gets designated pop tarts for when he visits. 
> 
> Also, while Bucky’s point of view and conclusions about Tony/Steve’s relationship is understandable (logical even!), as always, there is another side to the story. We’ll see that side later. Also, Bucky calls Jarvis “Building” as a little tiny nod to Owlet’s exquisitely perfect Bucky in her series : Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail. (You should totally read it. It’s in my bookmarks). 
> 
> And for Peter? You'll have to wait until Chapter 8. Sorry. We have to check in on Coulson and Sam for a second first.....


	7. A Clue for Scooby Doo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work was supposed to be Peter Parker centric. But now I'm writing Coulson. And now I must admit that I fell for the "free plot" sign on the side of the white panel van. 
> 
> The good news is that I (sorta) know where we're going. The bad news is that it's going to take some more chapters to get there. 
> 
> I've updated the story summary.

Coulson had been having a pretty good day. He didn’t snooze his alarm. There hadn’t been much of a line at Starbucks. Hell, he’d even taken his lunch outside today, and sat in the sunny courtyard. He’d taken the time to _really_ enjoy his bologna sandwich that had just the right amount of mustard.

He wasn’t surprised when the Twitter alerts started coming in. In his experience, there was nothing that attracted aliens or disasters more than a perfect blue sky.

So when it turned out to be some incident in a high school in Queens, he actually relaxed a little. Armed men storming a high school was just the right amount of weird to pique his interest, and he’d take it over portals to Cthulhu or god knows where any day of the week.

It might even be his lucky day and be every day terrorists. They at least made predictable, if unreasonable demands, and no one really minded when the snipers eventually took them out.

Not to mention there were also at least 3 other agencies he could dump it on. He might even get to go home on time today. He had a new episode of the Great British Bake Off waiting for him on his DVR at home. He might even watch it.

And then 15 minutes later the first shaky cell phone footage broke on Twitter. It clearly showed the quinjet landing on a soccer field. Then two men in head to toe body armor jumped out- (Steve and Bucky. He’d seen hundreds of versions of shaky/bad/incomplete footage of them to know their pixelated swagger anywhere) followed by... Tony in sweatpants? And what had to be Natasha. But no Clint. Which meant he was flying the plane.

Coulson sighed. There went the rest of the day.

He checked his phone. Maybe he missed a call.... Nope.

He narrowed his eyes. The Avengers were Up to Something. And Tony practically had a PHD in hanging up on people.

He went to his car. It seemed he’d have to make a house call.

He checked the time. They should be back by now. He called the Med Bay from the car while he was stuck in traffic. “What’s the status of the team?” he asked. The man on the other end was a mid level doctor, who answered on the first ring. So things weren’t completely on fire over there, which was reassuring.

“Spider-Man is down. Stark wants to clear alphas from the Med Bay; he’s arguing with Dr. Connors now.”

Phil blinked. What the hell was going on? “Spider-Man?” he asked. It seemed like the simplest place to start.

“He’s unconscious with a possible head wound. Banner has called in a specialist, Dr. Angelo from Metro-General.”

Phil’s confusion increased. The Avenger’s Med Bay was staffed by some of the most experienced ER doctors money could buy, with SHIELD trauma surgeons on call. Why the hell were they calling in someone from Metro-General?

“Is he stable?”

There was a teeth sucking sound. “For now. He’s got a fever we’re trying to get under control.”

“I thought he had a head wound,” Phil said.

“He does.”

“So the fever?”

“Stark and Dr. Connors know,” his source said.

Which was code for: “I’m not cleared to know.”

“You using biohazard suits?”

“No.”

So not contagious then. Or at least, it wasn’t a plague. Okay...

“And the alphas?”

“Hell if I know. It’s probably Stark being Stark. You know how he is.”

Yes, Coulson knew how Stark was. He also knew that Stark wasn’t crazy. Manic sometimes, but he always had his reasons. And if Stark was trying to clear out alphas... There had to be a reason.

His mind went blank. He could think of no reason why you’d clear alphas out in a medical setting.

“Thanks,” he said, and the doctor on the other end hung up.

“Okay google,” he said, “Doctor Angelo at Metro General.”

“Doctor Francis Angelo is a Omegatrician at Metro-General,” his phone said. “He is best known for his work with Doctor Alexander Deirre in developing the first non-toxic suppressants suitable for long term use for Omegas in 1983.”

Well that made no sense. The only omega on the team was Agent Romanov. And the doctor only mentioned Parker. Maybe there was a different Dr. Angelo at Metro-General?

Some horrible traffic later, he finally arrived at the Tower. He was unlikely to get answers from Stark, so...

“Jarvis, take me to the common floor,” he said.

“Of course.”

The floor was empty. He even peeked into the nap room. Nothing. No Avengers.

“Jarvis, is everyone in the MedBay?” he asked.

“No,” Jarvis said.

Phil sighed. Sometimes he wondered if Stark had programmed Jarvis to answer _ exactly _ what he asked. Or if it was possible that the computer simply didn’t like him. It was probably both.

“Where is Captain Rogers?”

“Captain Rogers is on the 79th floor.”

“He’s where?”

“He is on the 79th floor,” the computer repeated.

Phil racked his brain. What the hell was on the 79th floor? He couldn’t remember.

“Take me to Captain Rogers, please,” he said.

“As you wish, Agent.”

The elevator spat him out in what at first glance looked like a high end hotel room. He frowned at it. A couch that looked more fashionable than comfortable had blankets and a pillow on it, suggesting someone had been sleeping on it. Various bits of weapons and body armor were neatly laid out on flat surfaces, or leaned against walls.

And two people were having a conversation in the kitchen area behind a wall.

“See?!” that was Bucky.

“Still an asshole Buck,” Captain America said.

Phil walked around to the kitchen entrance.

“Gentlemen,” he said calmly, “I trust there’s a reason why I had to find out about the Avengers storming a high school from Twitter?”

Steve slid off the breakfast bar and sat up straight. “Coulson,” he said tiredly, cracking his knuckles.

Bucky froze for a split second, before he gave Phil a nod of acknowledgement. He was chewing on something, and he wasn’t going to win any awards for manners today. Phil carefully did not frown or narrow his eyes. There was no reason for Bucky to freeze at him. He made a note of it in his brain as yet more weirdness.

“Well?” he asked, stepping further into the kitchen.

Steve shrugged. “Not much to tell,” he said slowly. “Kid called for an emergency evac. So we went.”

Coulson stared right through him for a moment. There was only one “kid” on the team, and that matched with Parker being the one in the MedBay. But there was something off about how Steve answered him. Steve was... distant. Cool.

But why?

“He needed an emergency evac from his high school?” Coulson asked, probing.

“He’s in the Med Bay right now,” Bucky said.

Another exact answer that was true, but told him nothing. Which was odd. Rogers and Barnes did not like to play head games with him like Stark did.

Coulson considered this. Stared at them. Then at the room around them. This was a guest floor, he realized. The team’s top alpha and his second in command were camping out on a _ guest floor_.

Rogers shared a floor with Tony. Bucky likewise had his own quarters on a different floor that he split with Sam when he was in town. So why...?

A cold feeling formed in the pit of his stomach.

Rogers wasn’t just the team lead. He was the pack’s alpha. It was sort of an open secret that the Avengers were an honest to god old fashioned Pack. The press so far had either stayed away from it, or ignored the rumors. Packs were for things like organized crime or gangs. It was... uncivilized to be part of a pack. People were supposed to be better than their instincts, blah blah blah.

And if he remembered his history right, the only person who could kick a pack alpha out the pack’s “nest” was the pack’s omega.

That position was held by Tony, who held the honorary title of “pack omega” by virtue of being mated to Rogers, despite his Beta status.

Tony, who was currently banning alphas from the MedBay...

The mystery twisted into a shape Coulson did not like the shape of.

“So he’s injured enough for an emergency evac, but you two aren’t in Med Bay, because...”

Bucky and Steve doubled down their blank “I’m stupid” looks. Which was just insulting really. He KNEW they weren’t big dumb alphas.

Bucky shrugged. “Didn’t want to get in the way,” he said simply.

“And it has nothing to do with the Alpha ban Stark tried to implement in the Med Bay earlier?” Coulson prodded, watching their reactions.

“Didn’t know you could do that,” Steve said amicably. “Did you Buck?”

“No I didn’t. Thought there were laws against such things now a days. Since we’re in the future now and all,” Bucky agreed amicably. “Must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

Coulson eyed them, then spotted the mangled pop tart box.

_ They’d been eating Thor’s pop tarts. _

The last time Thor’s pop tarts had been raided was that horrible weekend nearly 8 months ago when Steve had found Tony on the floor of his workshop in a pool of his own vomit, black out drunk.

Coulson had watched Bucky and Steve eat Thor’s pop tarts while they dismantled both the workshop and Tony’s private floor, pouring out every bottle that they found. Nat and Clint had tackled the common floor. Bruce had taken the labs while Rhodey had sat with Tony in the MedBay.

There had been a lot of bottles. Tony had (reluctantly and with a lot of shouting) agreed to stop drinking. Steve had quietly banned alcohol from the Tower. It was now a fireable offense to have alcohol on the Tower’s premises.

Had Tony relapsed?

Bucky and Steve stared back blankly.

So there was definitely something wrong with Tony. Something that they didn’t want Coulson to know.

He wondered just how long something had been wrong with Tony. Maybe a day or two judging from the mess...

“Was Agent Romanov injured during this... ‘evac’?” Coulson asked. Maybe that was the reason for the omega doctor.

“No,” Steve said.

“Was _ anyone _ injured?” Coulson pressed.

“I stubbed my toe on a folding chair,” Bucky said. “You wanna see?”

Coulson gave his best, most polite “I see your shit and I’m onto you” smile.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “I think I’m going to go check in on Peter. See how he’s doing,” Coulson said, and turned to leave, then stopped.

“By the way- just out of curiosity- why _ are _ you two here? I’d think the common floor would be more comfortable,” sometimes a direct approach actually got you answers.

“No reason. Just airing it out,” Bucky said, full of shit.

Steve nodded. “A change of scenery is nice sometimes,” he said, also full of shit.

“A change of scenery.” Coulson said, and pointedly looked around the very bare, very sparse guest suite and the couch. “Of course.”

He smiled at the pair. World governments couldn’t keep their secrets from him. He would figure this out and if need be, drag them before Fury just so that they wouldn’t play games like this with him again.

They stuck to their “Who me?” blank smiles

“Gentlemen,” Coulson said, and left.

“MedBay please,” he said when he was in the elevator.

Now to see just how drunk Tony was.

*******

Sam was doing paperwork at his desk when his cell phone went off. He answered it absently without even checking to see who it was. It was probably his brother. _ Again. _Who knew throwing a simple barbecue for his Great Auntie’s 80th birthday would be so freaking hard? You’d think the man had never organized a party before.

“Tell your wife to chill man. No one’s going to care what color the napkins are,” he said. “Just go to Costco, and buy a freakin’ box of frozen hamburger patties already. And stop calling me at work,” he groused.

“I didn’t know I had a wife,” a voice that was definitely NOT his brother Jim said, sounding amused. It took Sam a moment to place it.

“Steve?!” he said. “What- is everything alright?” He instinctively swiveled to his computer and brought up CNN. There were no screaming headlines, and the top story of the day was about some sort of shooting at a high school in Queens. Which, while sad, wasn’t an Avenger’s level event.

“I can’t just call a good friend just to chat?” Steve teased.

“You could, but you never do,” Sam said. “It’s always somethin’.”

Steve huffed, but Sam waited.

“Alright, you got me,” Steve said. “I do want something.”

“And?”

“We’re going to be having a family movie night tonight. Thought you might want to join us.”

Sam frowned. A family movie night....?

“You remember that I’m still in D.C. right? And it’s a Monday, man,” Sam complained. “I still have to work tomorrow.”

“I’m thinking we might watch Swiss Family Robinson. Haven’t seen that one in a while,” Steve said.

Sam stilled, and he could feel his heart rate increase. The code was an old one from the days of hunting down Hydra. Swiss Family Robinson meant they’d barricade themselves in wherever they were, and wait for the enemy to come to them.

“Really? Swiss Family Robinson?” he said, managing to keep his tone light. “I’m more of a ‘The Sound of Music’ man myself.” Meaning they’d nope the fuck out and head for the mountains.

“No. You know how Bucky feels about musicals,” Steve said.

“So then ‘Seven Brides for Seven Brothers’ is right out then?” Sam tried. Clint’s farm was supposedly a nice place. He’d never been.

“Definitely not,” Steve said. “Tony hates that movie.”

Sam considered. Tony would probably lose his mind being stuck on a farm in the middle of nowhere.

“Who’s going to be there?” he asked.

“Everyone but Peter. He’s got mono.”

Sam frowned. What the fuck could incapacitate a super powered teenager that could dodge literal bullets?

“He gonna be alright?”

“He’s in bed right now.”

Sam wanted to swear. That meant that Steve didn’t know.

“Who’d he kiss?” he demanded.

“Don’t know. You know how it is sometimes.”

Yeah. Bad guys were downright rude these days- always insisting on covering their tracks instead of announcing themselves properly.

“How are you on snacks?”

“I think we’ve got it covered. You could bring the M&Ms though,” Steve said.

Sam tried to remember where he left his wings. Was it the guest room closet, or under his bed?

“You know what? I think I’ll join you. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Thanks Sam. And be careful on the drive up. I heard it might storm.”

Great. Wonderful. Checking his car for bombs in the parking lot at work was _ exactly _ how he wanted to start his afternoon.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly. “Do I need to pick up anything on the way?”

“No. We’re good. Just waiting on you,” Steve said.

Sam pressed his lips together. Steve was calling the Pack home, and he was the last one out in the cold.

“I’ll be there,” Sam said. “Don’t start the movie without me.”

“I think we can manage that,” Steve said.

Good. He wouldn’t have to break traffic laws to get there before things went down.

Sam hung up and sighed. He’d been planning on using those vacation days for an actual vacation. But like a lot of his life, it would have to go on hold.

He just hoped that this all got solved within a week. If he missed his Auntie’s 80th he’d never hear the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Swiss Family Robinson was one of my favorite movies back in the day. A family becomes shipwrecked and must defend themselves on a deserted island from pirates using mostly bamboo and gunpowder (and a tiger). It’s MacGyver meets Giligan’s Island. With pirates and a tiger. And an ostrich that they ride sometimes. 
> 
> Seven Brides for Seven Brothers was made in 1954 and has a bit of a ... rapey stockholm syndrome vibe to it when you watch it with a modern eye. Basically some guys kidnap some women from the local town, then skedaddle back to their isolated farm, where they get stuck because of an avalanche, and thus spend a whole winter together. (Spoilers: the women decide to stay and get married to the idiots at the end of the movie. Like I said- rapey vibes.) This is somehow ""wholesome"" (there really is not enough quotation marks in the world for that sentiment). 
> 
> And, of course, in the Sound of Music, they put on a nice song and dance before noping off into the mountains to escape literal nazis.


	8. My Heart Will Go On

“Explain it to me again,” Tony said, his voice eerily calm. He was well past hysteria now, a wave of that had passed over him several minutes ago. He was now adrift on a tiny little boat on the other side.

“It’s called ventricular fibrillation. What happens is the heart beats so fast that it loses its rhythm and instead of pumping, it just... flutters,” Dr. Connors explained calmly. “It means that for a little while, Peter’s heart was not moving blood. We administered CPR and we were able to shock him back into a normal rhythm using a defibrillator, so for now... his heart is beating like it should.”

Tony focused on breathing. That was something he needed to do. The kid’s heart had stopped, but it was beating again. That’s what was important here. He was alive.

“What caused it?”

The doctor hesitated. “It’s possible he was born with a heart defect and recent events triggered an episode,” the doctor said slowly, “But I don’t think that’s it. I’m fairly sure that we would have caught a defect during his last physical. We’ll be checking again, just in case.”

“So, what is it then?”

The doctor sighed, and pointedly looked directly at Tony. “He has a fever,” the doctor said, ticking off his fingers. “He has a significantly raised heart rate to the point of nearly killing him. And he is unconscious.” More fingers. “He also has a distinct scent.” Another finger.

“And?” Tony demanded.

“It all points to an overdose of cocaine,” Dr. Connors said wearily.

“HE DOES NOT DO COCAINE!” Tony roared. “He doesn’t!”

The doctor gave him a Look. “The scent alone-”

“Its a fucking _ scent! _ Do a fucking blood test!”

“Anything he might have taken would be metabolized already due his enhancements-”

“I mean, can he even GET high?” Tony demanded. “What’s the point of doing blow if you can’t get high?”

The doctor shook his head. “Peer pressure can be very strong in young adults-”

Tony rolled his eyes. “What peer pressure!? The kid has literally one friend! ONE! They build legos together and eat cookies and get crumbs and those stupid one by one blocks all over my fucking workshop-”

A hand touched his shoulder, and for a second, Tony reeled before he remembered- Natasha.

“You think it’s cocaine?” she asked.

“Oh my god- not you too!” Tony said, his voice rising in volume. “How many times do I have to say it? HE DOES NOT DO FUCKING COCAINE!” he was yelling now, and he didn’t care.

“Who doesn’t do cocaine?” a calm measured voice asked.

Tony looked up, and there was Coulson. Exactly who he did NOT want to see right now. He could feel a protective snarl forming. Over his dead body was Coulson even getting _ near _his fucking pup-

The hand squeezed his shoulder, and Tony forced himself to take a breath.

“Now’s not a good time Coulson,” Natasha said firmly. “Take a lap.”

Coulson arched an eyebrow.

Both Natasha and Tony glared at him.

“Okay- I’ll go visit Peter then-”

Tony snarled. An actual visceral snarl.

He wasn’t sure who was more shocked, Coulson or himself.

Natasha was there in a split second, standing between them. Tony didn’t remember standing up, but he was on his feet and suddenly a lot closer to Coulson than he was a moment ago.

“Hey, hey-” Natasha said, her voice calm and soothing. It sounded a lot like when she was trying to convince the Hulk to do something. Her hand almost but not quite touched his shoulder. “It’s okay Tony. How about we go get you a cot and you can go lay down next to Peter, yeah? You want that?”

Oh god, he wanted that. But... he eyed Coulson. He wasn’t pack. He was Fury’s, not theirs. He could be a threat-

“Hey, it’s okay. Coulson was just going to go downstairs? Right, Coulson?”

“Of course,” Coulson said, as if he was agreeing that yes, Pepsi was okay.

Tony didn’t move, glaring at Coulson, until the man started to slowly back off towards the elevator.

“See? He’s going. Come on,” Natasha said, still soft, and crowded near him, trying to get him to move without actually touching him.

He let himself be herded. He was going closer to Peter. That’s all that mattered.

“I want Doctor Connors fired,” he complained. “Peter doesn’t do_ fucking cocaine_,” he snarled.

“Of course Tony,” Natasha said, lying. She was just saying that to placate him.

“I mean it!” Tony said, and even he could hear the tired pup-like bratty tone he’d somehow adopted. Like a toddler demanding more cookies, or he’d hold his breath god damn it! He growled a bit at that thought.

Natasha wisely ignored him.

When they got to the room, a cot was waiting for them, complete with a blanket and a pillow. Tony checked the boy’s monitors first, but they all made the right reassuring regular toned beeps or had green colors on them. He fussed with Peter’s blanket a bit, making sure the ice was properly wedged where it was supposed to go and the boy was covered, and his pillow was aligned properly.

“Tony?” Nat asked. She was holding the blanket, waiting for him to lay down.

“Don’t have to tuck me in,” he bitched, but he laid down and let her anyway. “Not a pup,” he groused.

Nat ignored him. “I’m going to go talk to the doctors-”

“Connor’s fired,” Tony grumbled, reminding her.

Nat continued to ignore him. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

Tony grunted. The pillow smelled like hospital when it was supposed to smell like Steve. The blanket wasn’t much better. And he could smell Peter’s “sick, wrong, heat” smell even from here.

But he was so_ tired_. When had someone replaced his eyelids with lead?

It must have been Dr. Connors he decided, before he passed right the fuck out.

********

Natasha hovered for a minute, making sure that Stark would STAY in bed, but it only took a minute for him to pass out.

“Jarvis, when is Tony’s next vacation?” she asked quietly.

“Sir’s next vacation is scheduled to start a week from today.”

She sighed, and rubbed her face. Of course. Tony pretended to be laid back, but he was the most high-maintenance omega she’d ever met. And he was even worse when he was close to his heat.

So he was PHSing*, then he’d had to ban his alpha from the nest. And now Peter was sick...

It was a miracle the man hadn’t died of an aneurysm already. With Steve out the picture, it looked like she’d be on full time Tony Duty. At least until...

“Jarvis, did he call Pepper?” she asked.

“Ms. Potts is due to arrive in approximately 3 hours,” Jarvis said calmly.

Okay. So. Survive Tony Duty for 3 hours. And talk to the doctor about this cocaine thing. And find Clint and sic him on the school. And talk to Coulson, and find a way to spin this so that he wouldn’t go running to Fury. And talk to Steve. He needed to know that Peter’s status had changed.

Right.

Jesus Christ they needed another Omega for the pack, she thought, not for the first time. A real, proper omega. She seriously sucked at omega stuff. If they got another one she could be dumping “check on the boys” and “making sure that the boys ate more than take out” and “babysitting Clint” on her. Maybe even “Tony Duty,” if she could trust her not to strangle him within the first 24 hours.

Oh, and she needed to check on Bruce. See how he was doing with the Science, and make sure he had enough candy to last through this crisis.

UGH. She’d rather be laying in full sun on a tar roof somewhere waiting for a target than this shit, seriously.

Doctor first.

She found him sitting at a desk, looking at paperwork.

“Cocaine?” she asked.

He jumped a little. “Oh! Ms. Romanov, I didn’t see you-”

Most people didn’t.

“Cocaine?” she asked again.

The doctor sighed. “I’m sorry, but the symptoms-”

She waved a hand, cutting him off. “Let’s say that it is cocaine. How much cocaine are we talking about?”

The doctor blinked. “I’m... I’m sorry?”

“Are we talking a line? A mountain? A snow storm? How much would it take to affect him with his metabolism?”

More blinking. “I... can’t really say. There aren’t any studies on enhanced individuals...”

No studies. Which meant that he had looked for some sometime before this conversation.

_ Interesting. _

“Could it have been small enough to slip into his drink? Could he have been fed something?” she asked.

The doctor looked pained. “Ms. Romanov. I’ve been the team doctor for a while-”

Which was the only reason he wasn’t currently being thrown off the roof, she thought icily.

“And I like the boy. I really do. But I don’t think the amount needed would fit into his drink-”

“So... more than a line,” she said coldly.

“It would be more than a line, yes.”

She considered the nearby wall. “Is there a reason you’re so convinced he got himself high on cocaine?” she asked idly.

More pained looks. Finally, after several seconds of strained silence, “Have you spent more than 5 minutes with him?”

She considered him. Considered the wall again. Considered Peter.

She remembered the ride out last Saturday to the stupid robot fight. How he’d been bouncing off the walls talking a mile a minute about all the buttons and dials in the cockpit until Clint had kicked him out. How he’d then gone and bounced around the cargo bay until Tony had distracted him with some science thing on a StarkPad. Rather like a toddler being given a smart phone at a restaurant, she’d thought at the time.

How the kid couldn’t sit for more than 2 seconds without bouncing his right leg so hard it shook the couch or whatever he was sitting on. Bucky joked he’d have to check the screws on all the bar stools to make sure the kid wasn’t quietly vibrating them apart from just sitting on them.

The only time he was still was when he was fresh back from patrol, or a fight. And even then Saturday night when they’d been nesting, Bucky had had to physically lay on the kid’s legs to keep Peter’s right foot from vibrating through the floor.

“Are you saying... you think he’s high on cocaine... _ all the time_?” she asked, her voice slipping a bit from her usual “carefully neutral”.

“He is... very manic,” the doctor said, painfully neutral.

_ Of course he’s manic, he’s a male omega. _

The thought caught her off guard. She remembered the team dinner when Tony had announced that the kid had presented. How surprised, (but not really) everyone had been. The kid was like a little Tony clone, and Tony had once said the kid reminded him of what he’d been like when he was a teenager.

Apparently Tony, in his current “3 days without sleeping and doing science”, and occasionally “needing Steve to physically sit on him” form, was _ mellower _ than his teenage years. Which was hard to believe, but still. Hopefully one day the kid would also be able to sit quietly for more than two seconds. A feat that Tony still sometimes bragged about. (Tony's record so far was 3 minutes. Jarvis had timed it.)

Out of idle curiosity, she’d done the barest of google searches, and walked away with the fact that it was widely believed that Leonardo di Vinci had been a male omega.

Which just explained everything really. The million projects. The endless tinkering. She truly felt sorry for whomever had had to wrangle Leo in a time before suppressants, Xanax, or tranq guns.

“What does his blood work say?” she asked.

The doctor sighed. “Whatever he’s taken, it’s been metabolized-”

“You didn’t take a sample when he first came in?”

“Whatever he’s taken, he would have already-” the doctor repeated.

“Have you done ANY blood work?” she snapped. She eyed the big glass windows. She wondered if she could open them. Not that she’d throw him out or anything. That would be too much paperwork. But a good dangle over 70+ stories would probably get his priorities back in order...

“We checked his electrolytes-”

“Do a full work up. Tox screen. Everything,” she said, and fixed him with a level glare.

“As you wish,” Ex-team doctor, Doctor Connors said reluctantly. Tony was right. Doctor Connors was going to be fired after this. Maybe even during this.

She stalked off to an empty exam room, and dialed Clint on her phone.

“I’m at the school,” he said without prompting. “The NYPD, SHIELD, and the FBI are having a three way pissing match over jurisdiction.”

“They know anything?” she asked.

“They can’t find their asses with maps,” Clint grunted. “If the grunts on the ground at SHIELD know it’s us, they’re keeping their mouths shut,” Clint said, clearly pissed.

“And?” she asked.

“The fuckers don’t even know which student was taken,” he huffed, fuming. “They’re still doing roll calls in the classrooms. _ And _ they’re not following protocol either. Any significant incident at Peter’s school is supposed to be reported to us, but I haven’t gotten so much as a ‘fuck you’ from anyone, including Coulson.”

Natasha felt her eyebrows meet her hairline. “Coulson's here so that might be why. But it’s been over an HOUR, what have they been _ doing_?”

“Securing the perimeter,” he sneered. “Or some stupid shit. Apparently it took them over 10 minutes after we LEFT for them to even try to enter the building.”

Natasha’s horror intensified. “Well, Peter’s never going back there,” she said firmly.

“Fuck no, he’s not,” Clint agreed. “Not unless he agrees to a tracker or something. If we were bad guys he’d be halfway to Belize by now.”

“So what are you doing?” she asked.

“I found the servers connected to the security cameras and I’m downloading the footage now. Once that’s done, I’ll wipe it. I’m also writing some sort of ransom note with a crayon. I’m gonna leave it in the Omega room. See how long it takes for the grunts to get their heads out of their asses and contact us like they were _ supposed to _ from the beginning.”

“Don’t do that,” she scolded. “Have some class. At least do it with a sharpie.”

“All I have is this red crayon,” he grumbled. “Besides it’ll throw them off. What the hell kind of terrorist lands a jet thing on a soccer field, abducts a kid, then leaves a ransom note written in crayon?”

“They think it’s terrorists?”

“A duck farts in the wind and it’s terrorism,” Clint complained. “It’s _ always _terrorism.”

Natasha didn’t quite snort.

“How’s the kid?”

“His heart stopped for a bit. But he’s back now.”

Silence.

“No shit?” Clint asked, incredulous.

“No shit,” she said calmly.

“What the fuck _ happened_?”

“According to the doc, a mountain of cocaine,” Nat said flatly.

“WHAT?” Clint squawked. “Are you _ kidding _me?”

“No.”

“Did you dangle that fucker out the window yet?”

“I will if he doesn’t figure out which way is up soon.”

“Am I going to have your help to kidnap one of the fuckers who had the crowbar?” he asked. “Because if those assholes slipped him something-”

“I’m on Tony Duty. He’s going on vacation next week,” she said. “Pepper is 3 hours out.”

“Seriously?” Clint sighed.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll manage. It’s just one more fucking thing, ya know?”

She knew, and hummed in agreement.

“Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep SHIELD out of it.”

“Figured. I’ll check back in an hour.”

“Copy that,” Natasha said, and hung up.

Now to figure just what the hell she was going to tell Coulson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *PHS- Pre Heat Syndrome. Like PMS. 
> 
> This story is full of incompetent, self-centered background characters. So yeah, I feel your pain.
> 
> But it’s okay. Reinforcements are coming in later chapters. 
> 
> Also the edit fairy has visited some of the earlier chapters to do some slight wording changes.


	9. Lyin’ Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious text renovations have been done to Chapters 3 and 6 in response to some questions in the comments. Feel free to re-read them if you want. I think some things should be clearer now.

Clint hung up and absently fiddled with his hearing aid. Whenever this mess was over he’d ask him to fix it. It was getting pops and cracks in the higher registers again.

Probably because he’d forgotten to take it off before he got into the shower last week.

Or maybe it was that drink that chick had thrown in his face three days ago.

Whatever. He prodded his cell phone and double checked to see if the magic USB stick Stark had given him ages ago was done yet. It didn’t do much. It just copied everything and did some fancy tech stuff to make it go to Stark’s private servers. Then it deleted everything and left an encrypted video behind. Something to let the techs chase their tails for a while anyway.

75%. Jesus. The resolution on the security cameras must be just straight up garbage if it was transferring that quickly. He’d only started the transfer 15 minutes ago. That or high schools had amazing wifi.

He went back to his “ransom” note. He was writing it on the back of CVS receipt he’d dug out of his wallet. He’d only bought a chapstick, but it was long enough to hold his magnum opus no problem. The crayon came from a corner behind the servers, and was only slightly melty. It would also be nice if the only flat surface wasn’t the vertical side of the server he was currently dumping, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Lets see... Children are the future... the world will see in time my greatness... he tried to remember what that one guy with the glue gun had said last month. Was it “Behold the glory of what you can’t understand?” Or had that been the guy with the enhanced sewer rats?

Clint couldn’t remember. He added it anyway.

Oh, and a whole fucking paragraph about how the Avengers “would pay for their crimes.”

If that didn’t make the FBI or SHIELD or even the fucking NYPD to officially contact SOMEONE at the tower he’d personally sic Coulson on them.

A noise from outside the door to the server closet made him freeze. The place apparently doubled as a janitor’s closet (as was often the case with government sites) and so a mop was currently wedging the door shut.

He waited, hand on one of his many throwing knives.

The door rattled. The mop held.

Keys were jangled next, his hearing aid making the sound pop in his ears.

89%.

The lock was tried, and the door jiggled again.

The mop handle was a nice one. Solid wood. It was hard to find good mops these days.

Voices now. Arguing.

“Are you sure these are the right keys?” Man 1 said.

“Yes, these are the right keys. The kids might have put gum in the lock again,” Man 2 said tiredly.

“Let me try-”

More of the lock turning. More jiggling. The mop held.

“The lock feels fine. It’s almost like it’s jammed from the inside,” Man 1 said.

“Jesus. The mops must have fell over again,” Man 2 grumbled.

“Mops?”

“We keep the mops in there. Sometimes they fall over.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“What? This is a high school. The other janitor’s closet we turned into a classroom. We have to keep the mops _ somewhere _.” Man 2 was indignant.

“What do you when the mops fall over?”

“We have to take the door off the hinges. I’ll call Manuel.”

“Forget it. I’ll have some guys do it-”

“You can’t do that! It’s in his contract.”

“What?”

“The contract says Manuel does all repairs and maintenance. We can’t call someone else,” the man whined.

Clint smirked. Gotta love government contracts. _ God bless bureaucracy. _

95%. Ah. It was at the “leaving garbage behind” stage. If the techs were very very good at what they did, they’d get an interesting video of some people who looked very much like Steve, Bucky, and Tony in an all alpha three-way. The cosplay/porn community was a freaking weird place, man.

And Tony had an even weirder sense of humor.

“A kid was kidnapped. Your contracts can wait-” Man 1 snapped, the irritated voice of reason.

“He’s got a crazy high penalty fee- I can’t approve this-” Man 2 whined.

Clint’s cell phone booped. He pulled the USB.

“Wait. Did you hear that?” Man 1 asked.

Clint didn’t hear what Man 2 said. He was already in the air ducts and crawling away.

He slipped out of the ducts in the boy’s locker room. In the gym, groups of kids were sitting on the floor. Some of them were crying. Most of them were on their phones, either talking or texting. Probably with their parents, he realized. Two FBI agents and some teachers were in a corner, helping a couple of sobbing and hysterical omegas.

One of the FBI agents had left their windbreaker draped over a folding chair. He swiped it, and put it on. From his cargo pants he pulled out a selection of lanyards, then picked the FBI one, and looped it around his neck. The rest went back into his pocket.

Disguise complete, he ducked out into a hallway before anyone spotted him.

His khaki cargo pants weren’t _ quite _ right, but his dress shirt was, and his lanyard said he was a tech. Historically techs got more slack. He put the note he’d written into an evidence bag he pulled from another cargo pants pocket. He bought them in bulk on Ebay, and they were the same that the FBI and SHIELD used.

You’d be amazed at all the weird crap he came across that he had to bring back. Plus, you could put tacos in them and then put said tacos in your pockets so you could have tacos for later without getting taco juice all over your pants.

He felt he deserved an award of some kind for that discovery. Not a Nobel, but at least a Teen's Choice or something.

He dropped the bagged note near the evidence box in the hallway outside the omega room as he strolled by at a brisk walk. The techs would take care of the rest- they’d assume someone had fucked up, so they’d label it, log it in, and try their best to cover their ass.

It was sad how predictable people were sometimes.

He grabbed a clipboard off a pile of random FBI crap in a hallway, slapped some blank copy paper on it and took a lap of the school. No one stopped him. That was spy lesson #2. No one stops people who are carrying something and look like they know where they are going.

He quickly found that they had made the teachers lounge into an interview room. He opened the door, leaned inside, and touched the inside wall leaving a very tiny electronic bug behind.

The FBI guys turned in their seats to glare at him. The harried guy in the chair opposite them looked like a teacher of some sort.

"Sorry- I'm looking for Rodriguez?" Clint asked, waving the clipboard vaguely.

"Try outside near the van," one of the FBI guys snapped, clearly irritated at being interrupted by a greenhorn.

Clint nodded amicably. "Thanks," he said and left.

He ducked into the nearest bathroom and poked at his cellphone. The bug he'd planted went straight to his hearing aid.

“Why don’t we take it from the top?"

"Why?! I've already told you like three times!"

"Because I'm still confused. Maybe you can explain it better."

A noise of frustration.

"Look. I don't get why it's confusing. There was some alpha kid in the omega room. I was asked to help open the door."

“Okay. So, you were in your classroom, and-” FBI guy 1 said.

The teacher sighed heavily.

“I was in my classroom,” he said, as if reciting something from rote memory. “Then Mr. Garland came in-”

“And Mr. Garland is the counselor, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so Mr. Garland came in, and said- what exactly?”

More sighing. “Um... he said that there was an alpha who’d locked himself in the omega room, and if they could have my key.”

“So you have a key to the omega room?”

“My classroom is right opposite the room. I’m the head of my department. So yes, I have a key.”

“I thought you had to have a code to get in?”

“You do, at first. All omegas are given the code at the start of the school year in case of... incidents. But once you use the code the only way to get in is to use the key.”

“Is it unusual for alphas to have the code to get in?”

“Omegas get boyfriends... they want a quiet place to make out or whatever during lunch... it’s happened.”

“So you weren’t alarmed when they said there was an alpha in there?”

“I’ve been a high school teacher for 10 years. Not much surprises me anymore.”

“Did they say how they knew that there was alpha in there? The place doesn’t have windows.”

Silence. “I... I don’t know. You’d have to ask Mr. Garland. He was there from the beginning. I was just there when they came and ripped the door off the hinges.”

Clint poked his cellphone again to turn off the bug. They guy was useless for what he wanted to know. But this Garland guy...

A quick look at the official high school web page revealed a staff list with pictures. They were in alphabetical order. God, he loved it when the world made his job easier.

Mr. Garland was a school counselor alright. From the look of it he was a textbook “I peaked in high school alpha”, right down to his horrible cheap suit. And whoever let him buy that toupee should be taken out back and shot, along with the fucking toupee.

Another five minutes on Facebook revealed that he was divorced, and he had a teenage omega daughter that looked quite nice in her bikini on a boat on a lake. Her post was tagged #Summer and the guy driving the boat was tagged as Ash Simmons- her stepfather. Who apparently was an anesthesiologist.

_ Interesting. _

Her name was Cathy, but her friends all called her Cat in the comments section.

Now to find Mr. Garland. One alpha douchebag coming right up.

God, he loved easy missions.

10 minutes later he was cursing for jinxing himself. He wanted Mr. Douchebag, and apparently so did everyone else- to the point where an FBI agent, a SHIELD agent and a freaking NYPD detective were questioning him. Outside the room where this tomfuckery was happening, someone had rigged a TV to link to a phone camera so the “interview” was both being recorded and watched by a gaggle of agents from all three agencies.

It was soon very clear why.

“Look, I’m not saying anything more until I have a lawyer,” Mr. Douchecanoe snapped.

“A kid’s been kidnapped. You were knocked over and tied up with zip ties, Mr. Garland. That makes you a victim.”

“Lawyer. Now.” Mr. Garland snarled.

OOOooo Clint wanted him. But there were so many freaking people wearing Alphabet Agency windbreakers it was crazy...

He got an idea.

He ducked into the nearest bathroom, and dialed a number.

“Wade? You in New York right now?”

“Sure. What you need Merida?” the higher voice never failed to surprise him. Most alphas did their best to pitch their voice lower. Wade had never bothered.

“I need a favor.”

The man on the other end considered. “A favor that pays, or a favor that I can cash in from Mr. Tin Man and his chorus girls?”

“It’d be Star Spangled Man and his chorus girls, but no. I can pay this time.”

The man snorted. “Don’t fool yourself, Merida. The Pack Omega is _ always _ the one who calls the shots. Us alphas are just there to do as we’re told and look sexy as hell while moving the heavy stuff.”

Clint wouldn’t disagree. But then again, he was a Beta, so what the hell did he know?

“How do you feel about explosions?” Clint said.

“Oh, Merida, I _love_ _it_ when you talk dirty to me,” Wade cooed.

20 minutes later, Clint was out in the parking lot eating a chili dog from an opportunistic and frankly, genius, cart vendor when an explosion big enough to rattle the windows behind him went off a block or two to the north of the school.

Car alarms quickly filled the silence, and as if following some primal lemming like instinct, most of the men around the school started running towards the source of the explosion, leaving a reluctant skeleton crew behind.

Clint took a minute to finish his chili dog and strolled into the building. He didn’t have to go far- Mr. Douchecanoe was being interviewed in the principal’s office. As he predicted, the windbreaker club had all but disappeared.

He poked his head into the office, and found the SHIELD guy was the only one left. “There’s been an explosion,” he said. “We’re supposed to report to the parking lot for new orders.”

“I’m not supposed to leave him,” the SHIELD drone complained.

“I can babysit,” Clint volunteered, and flashed his brand new FBI lanyard at him. “I just started last week. They’re not having me do much more than coffee runs at the moment.”

The SHIELD guy hesitated. Clint waited patiently. Everyone always went for the opportunity to be a hero, doubly so if they were a SHIELD drone.

And like always, people never disappointed.

“Do NOT let him leave,” SHIELD guy said.

“Sure,” Clint said.

He stood there and smiled as the SHIELD guy ran off to play hero.

“I’m not talking to you,” Mr. Douchebag said. “I asked for a lawyer. You have to leave me alone until I get a lawyer.”

“Of course,” Clint said, still smiling. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Mr. Douchebag glared at him in confusion. “I thought you were babysitting me?”

“What? You don’t want to take a bathroom break?” Clint offered.

“I don’t need to go,” the guy snapped.

Clint sighed. The cell phone propped on the table was there. It was still probably recording. He very carefully picked it up and turned it off.

“How about this,” Clint said, his voice steely. “You come with me, and maybe- just maybe, you’ll get to see Cathy again.”

The man’s eyes grew wide.

_ There we go, _ Clint thought. Nailed it on the first try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I write this story the more obvious it becomes that I should probably create a timeline to keep track of everyone and where they are. But that would be like... actual real work. So I’m not doing that. 
> 
> So instead I’m going with “eh it’s close enough” when it comes to timeline issues. So be warned. We’re going full “wibbly wobbly timey wimey/hand waving away problems” rules. Things like “How did Clint get back to the school so fast?” and “Wait... how Wade rig an explosion and travel across NYC in 20 minutes?” or “Did Coulson just take a 10 minute elevator ride to go like 3 floors?” are to be ignored.


	10. Natasha and the Super Sitter

Natasha hung up on Clint and stashed her phone in her back pocket.

Task one done. Now to talk to Coulson.

She walked out of the exam room and saw the door to Peter’s room swing shut.

She hustled, and got there just in time to see the nurse preparing a syringe.

“Stop,” she said, her voice low and firm. “What are you giving him?”

The nurse, a thin brown haired beta woman, looked spooked for a moment, then smiled nervously.

“It’s just some lorazepam, honey. It’ll make him feel better.”

Nat frowned. “What is it, and what is it for?”

More frazzled smiling from the nurse. “It’s a sort of sedative,” she said. “It’s a very safe and standard treatment for a cocaine overdose. It’ll help his heart settle down.”

Natasha stilled.

“Who ordered you to give it?”

The smile turned into a frown. “Dr. Connors, of course,” she said.

“Put that back and get out,” she said coldly.

The nurse frowned at her. “This is what the doctor thinks is best-”

“If you don’t put that thing down I’ll throw you right out that door,” Natasha said, meaning every word of it. No one was going to inject Peter with _ anything _ until they figured out what was actually wrong with him. Whatever the fuck lorazepam was, it might make things worse.

The nurse pressed her lips together in agitation. “I’ll go get the doctor,” she said, and beat a tactical retreat.

Nat watched her leave, then huffed a sigh.

Was the world fucking serious right now? There were a million things she had to do right now, and she had no time for babysitting-

Babysitting.

She needed a babysitter.

She could HIRE a babysitter.

_ Why the fuck did she not think of this ages ago? _

She pulled out her phone and considered her list of contacts.

She needed an omega because Tony would absolutely stab any non-pack alpha she found to sit with him. It couldn’t be the boys. Tony was still pissed about the whole making Peter purr thing, and he’d stab both the alpha and herself he woke up to find one of them in the MedBay, nevermind in Peter’s room.

A beta wouldn’t cut it- they were usually too clueless when it came to hormonal omegas. They needed to be sensitive enough to read the room, but ruthless enough to not bow down to any passing alpha. Pepper, thankfully, fit this bill. But she was three hours out.

They also needed to not strangle Tony within 5 minutes of him waking up cranky, because from the way her day was going, he would not only wake up hungry but PHSing as well.

And not work for SHIELD, but still trustworthy...

Oh, and available at the last minute and also currently in New York. She didn’t have time for any “I’ll be there in a couple of hours” shit.

Her eyes settled on a name. She would be perfect, if only they were in New York... wait a minute. Didn’t she hear something about a conference?

She double checked facebook.

They were in New York right now. At a hotel not 15 minutes away.

_ Perfect. _

She ducked into the hallway and dialed the number.

“Hello?” the omega sounded bored.

“I need a babysitter,” Natasha said.

“Natasha... you don’t have any kids,” the omega protested.

“No but I have a cranky scientist. I need you to sit with them for a while,” she said. “Make sure that they stay asleep, and undisturbed.”

“Is Bruce okay?” she sounded concerned.

“It’s Tony. Things have gone to shit and I have a million fires to put out. I don’t have _ time _ for this.”

“I’m at a conference with Jane right now,” the omega grumbled. “I already had to separate her from Reed Richards like twice today-”

“Your beta can live without you for 2 hours. I need you to sit with him until Pepper comes. She can take over for you.”

The woman hesitated.

“Darcy, if you get here in the next 20 minutes I’ll get you an official SHIELD taser, a pint of ice cream, and Jerry from Accounting's number.” Natasha said. She wasn’t above bribery. And Jerry was single.

"Is he cute?"

"He's an alpha with a steady job, a cat and he likes Ruth Bader Ginsburg. He also showers regularly." Once you reached a certain age, you discovered that there were more important things to look for in a boyfriend than just “how hot is he?”

“And he’s kinda cute,” Nat added for good measure.

“How the fuck is he still single?” Darcy sounded baffled.

“Mystery of the universe,” Natasha said. Jerry also had a thing for feet, and still lived with his mother, but who knows- Darcy might not mind that.

"Sold.”

“Done. We’re in the Medbay at the Tower. I’ll see you in 20 minutes,” Natasha said, and hung up. It would piss Darcy off and make her move faster.

Two seconds later there was a knock at the door, and Dr. Connors came in. “Ms. Romanov? I heard you had some questions about Peter’s medication?” he said.

“Why are you giving him something for a cocaine overdose?” Natasha asked.

The doctor very carefully did not make a face at her. “It’s not just for that. Regardless of what caused it, Peter’s heart is beating a little faster than I’d like. Lorazepam will help bring it down to a more acceptable level-”

“Peter’s a super. What is his heart rate supposed to be?” she asked, checking the monitors. They were beeping a bit on the quick side, but they weren’t screaming like they’d done when his heart had fluttered.

“Normal range for someone his age is somewhere between 70 and 85-”

Natasha stared at the monitor that said his heart rate was 90.

“Someone his age?” she repeated. “He’s a mutant. What is his normal resting heart rate?”

“70 to 85 is a perfectly good range-”

“Don’t you have a file somewhere?” Natasha demanded, shocked. “He complained for a week about all the tests Bruce did to him-”

“He’s a human,” the doctor snapped back. “And 75 should be his resting heart rate-”

“You just said that 85 was okay. So 90 isn’t that bad. He’s sick. People’s heart rates go up when they’re sick,” she interrupted him.

“I think it’s best that a small dose-”

“Have you cleared this drug with Bruce yet?” she asked.

Dr. Connors stopped short. “I’m sorry?”

“Did Bruce clear this medication for Peter?” she said very slowly and clearly.

Dr. Connors looked offended. “We don’t need to clear every medication-”

“Get out. You’re not giving him anything,” Natasha said coldly. “Peter’s sick enough. I’m not letting you inject him with gods knows what because you’re too stupid and conceited to follow procedure.”

“Ms. Romanov, I assure you that I graduated top of my class-”

“I DON’T CARE,” Natasha growled. “Out.”

Dr. Stupid frowned at her. “Coulson will be hearing about this-” he said. As if he thought threatening her was a good idea.

“Coulson is not your boss. Tony Stark is,” she said evenly. “And you won’t be telling him anything-”

“It is my _ job _ to report on the team’s status and readiness to Coulson,” he said. “And in light of recent events, I think it’s high time I inform him of Parker’s second gender-”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. Natasha had him pinned to the wall with a knife to his throat before the horrible man could blink.

“You will go home. You will send in your resignation by mail. You will go find another job somewhere and _ keep your mouth shut. _Do you understand?”

“Are you threatening me?” demanded the man who had apparently graduated top of his class from medical school and who, at this very second, had a knife at his throat.

Natasha was less than impressed. “You can always take option B,” she said coldly.

“And what is that?” he demanded.

“Muggings happen all the time these days. Peter’s always complaining about it. It’d be a shame if you got mugged on your way home and killed. But what can you do, right? It’s New York City, and you’re walking around with that fancy watch of yours in a bad neighborhood. You were just asking for it really,” Natasha purred.

The man stared at her. His eyes slowly going wide. “You’re serious,” he gasped.

“When it comes to my pack, I am _ always _ serious,” Natasha said coldly.

He licked his lips and seemed to do some mental math.

“I’ll go home,” he spat. “Now get your hands off me-”

Natasha let him go. It was a shame really. If he’d been a few inches shorter he would have slid down the wall a little. Instead he just irritably smoothed out his clothes and then stalked out of the room.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes Ms. Romanov?”

“Disable Dr. Connors' Tower access. I don’t want him to come back.”

“At once, Ms. Romanov. Shall I have security escort him out?”

She debated for a minute. “If he starts to head towards Coulson, yes. Otherwise let him go.”

She sighed and sat in a chair. Jesus Christ, this was going to be a long day.

22 minutes and 5 seconds later a breathless Darcy flounced into the main MedBay. As usual, she had her Bag with her. The thing was as big as it was hideous, and Natasha knew from first hand experience you could fit a 25 pound rabbit in it and still have a bit of room to spare. It was also “white” in the same way that a fifty year old wedding dress hung in a smoking room was white. Darcy insisted she washed the canvas bag (especially after the rabbit peed in it) but Natasha thought the only real way to clean the thing would be to burn it.

Not that she would do that. It would probably explode, what with all the weird crap Darcy had carted around since Jane hit Thor with her car.

The Bag, at least, was normal. Normal for Darcy anyway. What wasn’t normal was her outfit. The buxom brunette was wearing a red tea dress with white polka dots that looked like something right out of the 1950s. Natasha could even see the white lacy petticoat peeking out from under the skirt. Darcy wore matching red flats and her hair done up in some sort of hair do that Nat would swear she’d seen on some eye candy omegas on Steve’s old recruitment posters.

“Fuck you I’m still getting that taser,” Darcy said, before Natasha could open her mouth. “I got stopped by an idiot security guard in the lobby. He tried to take my knitting needles,” she complained as she collapsed into a chair.

“But not your taser?” Nat asked, eyebrow raised. Darcy _ always _ had a taser on her. And chapstick. And maybe some Tylenol and her knitting and maybe even a Geiger counter made of mostly duct tape if she had her Bag with her. Sometimes Natasha wondered if Darcy had knocked Mary Poppins over for her magic carpet bag, then blackmailed Dr. Strange into making it look like canvas.

She’d once told Clint her theory about Darcy’s Bag. He thought it was more likely that she was a straight up witch, and had just enchanted the Bag herself. He’d seen it in action in New Mexico, and always swore she’d pulled a first aid kit and the “best fucking sandwich I’ve ever had and a family sized bag of my favorite chips” out of the Bag after he’d complained he was hungry and bleeding.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “The taser is in my garter belt. He only searched my bag. The idiot thought my circular needles were a freaking garrote or something. You guys seriously have shit security for a building full of super heroes,” she complained. “Thankfully, my man Jarvis had my back.”

“Anytime, Ms. Lewis,” Jarvis said.

Natasha sighed. “Jarvis, schedule the security guard who screened Darcy for retraining,” she said.

“Of course, Ms. Romanov,” Jarvis said amicably from the ceiling.

_ This fucking day... _

“You can still have SHIELD taser if you explain...” Natasha said and waved a hand at Darcy. “This. Whatever is happening here.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “First of all, I am fucking snack right now, okay? And second of all, it’s called class. And third of all, it’s 1950s mad scientist themed day at the conference and I’m not mad, or a scientist, so...”

“Any luck with cute scientist guys?” Natasha asked.

Darcy groaned. “I wish. They’re all... so... old,” she complained. “And the ones that aren’t old have all the personality of an empty toothpaste box.”

Natasha held back a pitying sigh. The curvy omega had been looking for a mate for as long as Nat had known her. But it was hard to date when you had Thor wandering in and out of your life, dragging you into random, nonsensical adventures. The last time Nat had seen Darcy it was because Loki had turned one of Thor’s friends into a rabbit and Darcy had gotten stuck with things like “getting hay from a pet store” then rabbit sitting while Thor hunted Loki down to undo the spell.

Natasha had been called in to help Jane and Darcy sneak an incredibly large and pissed off rabbit from England into France. Apparently the EU was very particular about things like vaccination records and “pet passports” and quarantines when it came to giant freaking rabbits coming from the UK. (Who knew?) And of course there had been _ no time _ because something about a natural spring and a full moon...

She’d stopped asking questions right around the time Darcy tied sleigh bells to her wrists.

It wasn’t the weirdest thing she’d ever done, but it was up there.

“So... where’s Tony?” Darcy asked, pulling Natasha away from her thoughts.

Nat paused for a moment. “It’s not just Tony that I need you to watch,” she said. “There’s a kid to, but...” she shook her head. “Come and see.”

Intrigued, Darcy followed her. As soon as they entered the private room, Darcy’s hands flew to her nose.

“Holy shit-” she whispered shouted. “It smells like a dying hooker in here. What the hell? And why is that kid naked?”

Nat held in a sigh. Darcy was loyal, and smart, but she had about as much tact as a hundred year old grandma with no fucks left to give. Thankfully Tony was a deep sleeper and slept through Darcy being... Darcy.

“That would be Peter. He’s sick. He has a fever so they’re using ice to keep it down.”

“HE smells like that?” Darcy demanded. “Jesus Christ...”

“Yes, and we don’t know what’s wrong with him. Everyone is stupid today, and everything is on fire. I need you to sit here and keep an eye on both of them. If the kid wakes up, call me. If Tony wakes up, have Jarvis deliver some food and feed Tony, then call me. Don’t let anyone give the kid anything. And I mean, _ anything_.”

Darcy eyed the kid. “Doesn’t he need medicine or something?”

“I’ll let you know when we find a doctor who’s not an idiot with his head up his ass,” Natasha said angrily. “The last one thought-” she cut herself off. “It doesn’t matter. No drugs.”

Darcy nodded. “I can do that.”

“Jarvis?” Natasha said.

“Yes, Ms. Romanov?”

“Darcy Lewis is now in charge of Peter and Tony. Back her up with the medical staff.”

“Of course Ms. Romanov.”

Natasha took one last look around the room. She felt like she was forgetting something...

“Natasha?” Darcy asked. She was sitting in a chair digging her knitting out of her Bag.

Natasha met her gaze. “Yeah?”

“It’ll be okay,” Darcy gave her a sincere smile. “I got my taser, and the babies are sleeping. Go kick some ass and they’ll be here when you get back.”

Natasha took a breath. Right. Trust her backup. “I owe you some ice cream,” she said.

“You owe me Blue Bell ice cream,” Darcy clarified. “And some dark chocolate. And that taser.”

“Tell Jarvis where you want it delivered,” Natasha said, and left to finally go deal with Coulson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm a fan of Darcy? Because she's awesome.


	11. The Sound of Me Not Calling You Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Time Warp Batman! I swear just yesterday was Halloween! I’m in the process of getting some serious writing done for this. In the meantime, enjoy some Coulson. Next chapter will be Darcy and Tony antics. I’ll post that as soon as I’m done with it.

Coulson brooded in the elevator.

The Avengers were falling apart. Or, at the very least, they were so close to falling apart that it made no real difference. Parker was down, for who knows how long- Stark was the very definition of unstable, with Natasha stuck playing the role of babysitter. And Rogers and Barnes had been exiled to the guest rooms. And Clint was not in the Tower, which meant that he was _ busy _. (Which also meant Coulson was in for a headache and a mountain of paperwork sometime in the very near future, but he’d cross that bridge when it fell on him) And Banner- well. They really tried not to use him that much. And never on his own. That would be... no.

So if aliens invaded in the next couple of days, it was very possible that they were screwed.

Well, maybe not totally screwed. Rogers and Barnes were a wrecking crew unto themselves. They should still be in commission, and if the world was on fire enough they’d come through and save the day, even if they hated him. They were blindingly noble like that.

But the pack falling apart wasn’t the worst thing.

No.

The worst thing was that the team had apparently fallen to pieces while he wasn’t looking. Possibly it had happened while he’d blinked.

Packs, especially war packs like the Avengers, were fragile things if history had taught humanity anything. Take out the top alphas, leave the pack omega on their own without a clear alpha heir to act as an anchor, then give the tiniest little nudge... and the whole thing would spin out of control until it tore itself apart under nothing more than its own weight and momentum.

He’d KNOWN that. And yet... he’d let himself blink. To wander off, even. To do _ paperwork_, of all things.

_ And it hadn’t even been two whole days since he saw them last. _

That’s how fast things had fallen apart. He’d sent them on a mission Saturday night, they’d succeeded, done a quick after-action report, then hit the showers. There had been a quiet Sunday, and then by 1pm the next day, the team was raiding a high school and 10 minutes after they landed everything was in pieces.

It was possible things had been in pieces before that, but that they’d come together for Peter. Which wouldn’t surprise him. They all obviously adored him. Coulson still wasn’t quite sure where the boy fit in the pack’s hierarchy. Due to his age and his beta status, he’d expected him to be under Clint, and therefore at the bottom. Perhaps after he got experience under his belt he’d be equal to Clint.

And yet when Coulson had suggested going to visit Peter, Stark had straight up _ charged _ him, like a territorial bear. A pack omega- let alone a beta filling the role of an omega, _ would not do that _ for the lowest member of the pack. Even if said pack member was sick.

Unless...

Rogers and Barnes were icing him out. Worse, they were not quite lying to him.

Did... did they see him as a_ threat_?

It was mind boggling. He was a middle aged Beta, who was also their handler for SHIELD. He might not be pack, but he at least was supposed to be an ally. But if they viewed him as a threat...

The realization almost hurt his feelings.

But his feelings weren’t important. It was obvious he’d fucked up. Somehow, somewhere, he had totally, utterly, and completely fucked things up. What had he done? Not done? _ What had he missed? _

He wasn’t used to not knowing how’d he fucked something up. That was what rookies did. And he was no rookie. It was... irritating.

So it was time to retrace his steps. To look for missed signs. It was possible that the pack had collapsed in less than a day, but unlikely. Hadn’t Carthage collapsed in 12 hours after that one Alpha King had died? He couldn’t remember.

What was important was checking to see if they were falling apart before their mission on Saturday, and he’d somehow missed the warning signs, or disaster had struck sometime after, and it had just happened that fast.

He wasn’t really sure which option was worse.

He got off at the cafeteria level and headed for the kitchens. Lesson #209- dishwashers/servers knew far more than they should about gossip at their workplace. And they were underpaid enough that a reasonable bribe was more than enough to loosen lips.

It was a weird in between time for the cooks right now. The lunch rush was just petering out and the few latecomers were wandering in and making interested noises at the menus. The sous chefs were just starting to prepare for the dinner rush.

He tackled the servers first. “What did the Upstairs eat on Saturday?” he asked.

The server shrugged. “They didn’t order anything from us. They usually order delivery after they get back from a mission.”

“Sunday then?”

“Spaghetti with meatballs on the side and garlic bread.”

“How much came back?”

“Almost all of it,” the man shrugged. “Barely touched the bread, too. Had to toss it, since it went stale.”

“And the rest?”

“I think Johnathon, Taylor and Cassie split it and took it home.”

“And they came into work today?”

“Johnathon and Cassie did.”

“And Taylor?”

“It’s his day off today,” he said.

“Did anyone deliver anything to the guest floors anytime this week?”

“Yesterday,” the server said.

“What time?”

The man considered. “The Captain and the Sergeant had like two whole chickens and some mashed potatoes for lunch.”

“Anything for dinner?”

“Not from us.”

“What time did you take lunch up?”

More considering. “It was early. Like 10:30. I remember I almost told him we couldn’t do it because we were still serving breakfast, but...” the beta hesitated.

Coulson smiled knowingly. “But if the Captain wants roasted chicken for breakfast, then he gets roasted chicken for breakfast.”

“Exactly.” The waiter said with feeling. “The last time someone told Stark no-”

“They get fired?” Coulson asked.

“No. They got ‘promoted’,” the man said grimly, complete with finger quotes.

“Why’s that a bad thing?”

“He got promoted to the kitchens in Antarctica,” the man- Coulson couldn’t remember his name (John maybe?)- said, and shuddered.

Coulson frowned. “Stark Industries has kitchens in Antarctica?” he asked curiously.

“There’s a research station there. Something about ice? Or penguins? I don’t even want to know. All I know is that there’s more penguins than girls there.”

“How long before he quit?” Coulson asked.

The guy shrugged. “They say he’s still there. Got married to a scientist or something. Apparently he _ likes _ it there now.” The server indicated with a pointed tilt of his head and raised eyebrows that this was a clear sign of unchecked madness.

Coulson’s smile widened, and gave the kid a fifty. “Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” the server said, slipping the note into a pocket, then paused.

“What is it?” Coulson asked.

“Do you know what Stark is using the ice for?” the man asked.

“Ice?” Coulson blinked.

“Yeah. He and like 3 other people came down here and filled some hefty bags with ice and left like something was on fire. We’ve got some bets going on as to what he’s up to this time.”

“How long ago was that?”

The man shrugged. “An hour or so?”

That would have been right around the time the team got back from the high school.

_ Interesting. _

“No. I don’t know. But if I can, I’ll get back to you on that.”

The beta nodded. “Thanks,” he said, and went back to his side work.

“Just out of curiosity,” Coulson said, “What’s the leading theory?”

The server snorted. “Matilda thinks one of his machines is overheating or something. But the real money is on weird sex stuff.”

Coulson’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Sex stuff?”

“Hey, if I was mated to Captain America I’d be doing totally weird sex stuff with him too-” a mousy omega wrapping knives in napkins commented. “And it makes more sense than cooling down one of his machines-” she continued loudly and pointedly at a sous chef chopping lettuce.

“It could happen!” the sous chef shot back.

“It’ll run on electricity, Matilda! You can’t put ICE on one of his suits! All the magic smoke will come out!”

“Now I know you’re full of shit-”

“You’ve never dropped a hairdryer in a bathtub before? It screams then this smoke comes out-” the omega retorted, clearly ramping up for some sort of rant. “And then it doesn’t work anymore-”

“You dropped a hairdryer in a bathtub? Did you not see the warning label on the damn thing?” the beta server asked, horrified.

Coulson beat a hasty retreat before he got dragged anymore into it.

Well, now he had some new things. A clue, a mystery and a tidbit. First- whatever had happened had happened either very early in the morning, or right after they got back that night.

And second- Stark and Fury had more in common than he thought. “Promoting” someone in a way that made it look like a punishment while actually being a reward? He was one sneaky Beta bastard, that’s for sure.

And third... what the hell did Stark need ice for?

Coulson held in a sigh and added it to his mental “WTF” pile.

************

No one paid any mind to the two FBI agents that walked quickly out of the school. The FBI guys were all busy this day. One was older and wearing a bad toupee, and wearing a windbreaker. He looked nervous. The second one was a new techie judging from his cargo pants and his shiny new lanyard. Someone would have to have a word with him about how far one could press the dress code.

A gaggle of agents gathered by some sort of trailer that had removable sides and was crammed full of both computers and people. Letters on the side declared it to be “Command Center #2”. But the two agents paid no attention and walked purposefully right by it.

The younger one helped the older one into a car, then walked around and got into the driver’s seat- which was an odd bit of chivalry, Agent Lopez thought absently. It almost looked like the procedure followed when you were putting a suspect into a car. But that was silly. They were both Agents. He must have imagined something.

A few seconds later Lopez completely forgot all about the odd behavior of the two unknown agents when someone from SHIELD came running up with a printout from a surveillance camera that showed someone in a Santa suit putting a bomb next to a trash can.

_ Great. _ Costumed perps meant only one thing- SHEILD was going to be taking over this one. Which was good news. With luck, he’d be home in time for his wife’s pot roast today.


	12. Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is hot off the presses. I may edit this some more later.

“Hello, and welcome back to Mate Watch!” a blonde omega gushed. She wore a shirt that was almost too low cut to be allowed on YouTube to show off her obviously fake breasts. She and two other women- a fashionable androgynous beta and a butch alpha with an undercut and a nose ring, sat round table style in front of a giant red heart. The heart was bordered with white lace and the heart itself glittered under the stage lights, like some sort of Valentine’s offering from a first grader to their mother. There were plushie swans on the middle of the table.

It was hideous and tacky, and Darcy lived for it. She put her knitting down long enough to nudge her phone into a slightly better viewing position and turned the volume up a notch. 

“In case you’re new, I’m Kayleigh,” the omega simpered, “This is the ever fabulous Rhea-” the omega gestured, and the beta on her right gave a curt nod. “And last, but not least, the awesome Kate!” 

The alpha to her left jutted her chin out and grunted a “Wassup?” with extra attitude. 

“Oooh! Kate is upset today!” Kayleigh squealed, oozing fake concern. “Tell us why Kate!” 

“Tony Stark was sighted last Thursday at a Gala for the MacArthur Foundation... mateless!” the alpha woman growled. The other two gasped exaggeratedly, clearly fake scandalized. “And it’s not the first time either. This will be the third time in a month that Rogers is nowhere to be seen.” 

Helpfully, a picture of Tony taken on the red carpet entrance to the gala appeared in the middle of the heart behind the women. They all turned to look at it. In the image, Tony’s trademark paparazzi smile looked uncharacteristically weak, while he looked otherwise fetching in a dark blue suit. 

“Aww... he looks so sad!” Kayleigh cooed. “Does anyone know where Rogers was? Maybe he was saving children or something?” 

“He was at Starbucks,” Kate sneered. Another picture appeared next to Tony’s showing a clear paparazzi shot of Steve Rogers coming out of a Starbucks, cup in hand, and a baseball cap shoved down over his face. But there was no mistaking those shoulders. 

Even Darcy winced. 

“Now that’s just downright criminal,” Rhea said, upset. “Do you see that man’s eyelashes? He clearly went all out and Rogers  _ still  _ stood him up,” she said, shaking her head. “That poor Beta. Alpha men are just  _ so _ clueless.” 

Kate nodded. “He always has the most amazing eyelashes,” she agreed. “Does anyone know where he goes to get them done, Kayleigh?” 

“According to my sources... they’re natural!” Kayleigh squealed, like she was sharing a shocking truth bomb. 

Tony’s picture switched to a close up of his face, to reveal that yes- the man’s eyelashes were incredibly dark and full. 

Darcy frowned, and peered down at the sleeping man next to her. Tony was not quite snoring, but he was adorable even when he clearly drooling into his pillow. And yes- his eyelashes were just as lush when he was passed out on a random Monday as they were on a full out Gala night. 

Life wasn’t fair, Darcy grumped. Maybe if she was extra sneaky, and a little bit lucky, she could do some snooping and figure out what mascara he used. 

That is, if he used any.  _ The bastard.  _

Rhea tsked and shook her head. “He is way too adorable to be a Beta, honestly. It’s really not fair to all the rest of us! How are we supposed to meet that sort of standard?” 

“You can’t even try-” Kate agreed. “The man is  _ blessed _ .”

“His suit is super flattering! Is it new? I don’t remember him being in that shade of blue before.” Kayleigh asked.

Rhea consulted some notes on the table in front of her. “According to his publicist, he was wearing a Tom Ford suit from the new spring collection that should be out later this month.” 

“This is just so sad!” Keyleigh said, outraged. “Rogers should be ashamed of himself- letting his mate get all dolled up and not going with him!”

“Do you think Rogers is losing interest already?” Rhea asked. “I was surprised when I heard they mated. Stark doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships. He’s super fickle for a Beta.” 

“Pepper Potts was around for a while-” Kate pointed out.

“Officially, or unofficially?” Kayleigh interjected. “They’ve been on and off for  _ years _ . Everyone else didn’t last more than two months. Which means that either Potts is a saint, or he just couldn’t find anyone else who could compare to her.”

“You know, I also thought that Rogers and Stark got mated  _ super _ fast. Like you said, Pepper and Tony were together for years, and there wasn’t even so much as a rumor of a mating ceremony. But it was what- a month?! After they broke up, and suddenly- BAM! The man’s mated without so much as a flower girl.” Rhea said, snapping her fingers for effect. 

Kayleigh shook her head. “Makes you wonder. Was Rogers sniffing around while Pepper was still in play? I know he’s Captain America... but he’s an alpha from the 40s. And his friend Barnes was quite a player. Do you think he’s making up for lost time?” 

“Or, was Stark stringing her along while he went for Rogers?” Kate offered. “He does have a track record, and Rogers  _ is _ his first alpha. Maybe things got out of hand? A whirlwind romance that’s cooling off sort of thing?” 

“It’s only been, what- 7 months since they mated?” Rhea asked. “The whirlwind thing sounds more likely than anything.”

“You know, I was surprised Rogers even went for Stark,” Kate said thoughtfully. 

“Oh?” Rhea asked. “Why?”

“It’s just... he has that super tragic backstory, and he’s- I mean- look at him- he’s definitely one of God’s gifts, obviously-” Kate said. 

“Obviously,” Kayleigh sighed in agreement, and made heart eyes at the publicity photo of Rogers in his Captain America suit that now filled the heart behind them. She fanned herself a bit with her hand. 

“I always thought that if anyone had a Fated Mate- it would be Rogers,” Kate said. “But he went for what? A  _ beta _ ?” Kate said, with the same tone one would use to describe a type of shit. “No offense Rhea,” she said quickly. “But he has such a fairy tale story so far, and he’s settled for a Beta instead of waiting for his Fated Omega? Seriously?” 

Rhea shook her head. “None taken. You alphas are just too much drama, to be honest,” she said. “I’ll gladly let the omegas have you,” she said with a snort. 

“It  _ is _ a proven fact that most alpha and beta romances generally don’t last that long,” Kayleigh said sadly. The other girls nodded knowingly. “And I have to say I agree with you there, Kate. It’s obvious he’s got a Fated Mate out there  _ somewhere. _ Maybe that’s why this relationship clearly isn’t going so well. It was doomed from the start,” she said sadly. 

“Has anyone seen Stark’s bite mark lately?” Rhea interjected. “If it’s fading already-”

“Kayleigh? Do we have any clear shots of Tony’s neck?” Kate asked. 

“None since the press conference when they announced they’d mated...” Kayleigh said thoughtfully. 

“Tommy? Do we have a picture of that?” Kate asked someone off camera. After a couple of seconds, the image behind them faded and was replaced with a clear picture of Tony Stark in a low cut top standing behind a podium, with a clear and still-healing mating bite on his neck. 

“So it definitely happened... right?” Rhea asked. “I’m not just imagining it? Maybe it was a stunt to get back at Pepper?” 

“You know... they CAN do makeup to make it  _ look _ like a mating bite... they do it for the movies all the time-” Kate offered. 

“Do you always watch tv shows about people you sit next to, or am I just that lucky today?” Tony bitched, his eyes still closed. 

Darcy dropped her knitting and scrambled to turn her phone off. “Holy shit, dude- I’m sorry!” she whisper shouted. She fumbled a few times before she got the app to close. 

“You hungry?” Darcy asked, breathless. 

Tony glared at her. “Who the fuck even are you?” he demanded, his eyes now open and glaring. 

“Darcy Lewis. Babysitter. Natasha called me,” Darcy word vomited before she could stop herself. 

Tony just looked even more pissed than before. “Well, congratulations, you’re fired,” he snapped. 

“Well, first of all,” Darcy said, recovering from her surprise and flat out ignoring his lazer death eyes, “You didn’t hire me dude. Second of all- when was the last time you ate?” 

Tony blinked, then scowled even harder before looking away. “I’m fine-” he spat. 

Darcy tried and failed to hold in an indulgent smile. That was crazy genius scientist talk for “more than a day ago, but I’m not admitting shit”. She dug into her bag, and produced a bag of Twizzlers and some freeze dried blueberries. 

“Here. This should get your blood sugar up until some real food arrives. Jarvis?” 

“I have already placed an order from the cafe on the third floor,” Jarvis said calmly from the ceiling. “The food should arrive momentarily.” 

“There’s my main man!” Darcy said, smiling widely. “Has anyone told you that you’re awesome today, J?” she cooed. 

“That is not necessary Ms. Lewis,” Jarvis said cooly, but he sounded a bit smug about it. “It is always a pleasure to be of service.” 

Tony narrowed his eyes at Darcy. “Hey! No flirting with my AI- he’s not programmed for that,” he demanded, then sat up. Or rather- tried to sit up. He quickly fell back onto the bed with a pained grunt. 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Eat your Twizzlers,” she said, and moved her phone so that she could text Natasha. The man grumbled, and tore the bag open with his teeth before grudgingly eating one. His eyes grew wide. “Holy shit. What are these things?” 

“Twizzlers, duh?” Darcy said, and fired off a quick “Scientist baby is awake. Feeding now,” text. 

“These are amazing-” Tony said, and started shoving them into his mouth. 

“Whoa, slow down! They’re like 50% plastic so you have to chew them, ya know?” 

“What?” Tony stopped, and flipped the bag over to inspect the ingredients. “Why would they have plastic- that’s not food safe-”

Darcy sighed. Great. He really was a “Crazy Genius Scientist”- right down to the “It takes me a minute to not take what you’re saying literally” gene. 

“It’s a joke man. Go ahead and keep the bag, but don’t eat all of them. You need to save room for some real food.” 

Tony looked up scowling, and was clearly about to rip her a new one when as if by magic, the door to the room opened, and a young man with a tray full of food stepped inside. “Mr. Stark?” he said. He wore a cute little apron that said “Cafe Ole” on it. 

Darcy beamed at him. “OOOOooooo are those  _ tacos _ ?!” 

“Tacos al Pastor,” the man said with a dazzling smile at Darcy. “With extra rice and two sides of pineapple salsa.” 

“That is for me. Get your own... 50s girl.” Tony muttered, and then when the cafe boy didn’t move fast enough snapped, “Come on. Put it down over there,” he said, and gestured at a nearby wheelie table that was probably meant to be used by the kid in the bed. 

The boy from the cafe scrambled to comply, and Darcy frowned pointedly at Stark, who ignored her. She waited until he said “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” 

“Yes-” Stark started, but Darcy cut him off. 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” she said pointedly. “Jarvis give this man some sort of amazing tip, yeah?” 

“Of course Ms. Lewis,” Jarvis said from the ceiling. The cafe’s boy’s smile regained it’s sunny nature. “Um...” the boy looked at the kid in the bed-

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine,” Darcy said breezily. “Just a cold turned into pneumonia type of thing,” she lied, and all but shoved him out the door. “We’ll send the tray down later, thanks!” 

She closed the door firmly before the guy could even frame another sentence. 

“That was sad. He was looking like a promising minion and everything,” she said sadly. 

Stark raised an eyebrow at her, mouth already half full of taco. She snagged one off the plate to his choked protest, that she also ignored. 

“That- that is  _ my  _ taco-” he whined when he didn’t have a mouth full.

“So. Order more,” Darcy said blithely, shrugging. “Rule #1 of minions dude- you have to feed us.” 

Tony gave her look of complete and utter confusion. “I’m sorry. What is happening...? Why... why are you dressed like that? Who ARE you? And stop eating my fucking tacos!” 

“I have placed another order with the cafe,” Jarvis said from above. 

“Great! These are freaking delicious man!” 

“Omega!” There was a warning snarl. 

Darcy sighed. She despised explaining things. 

“So. I was at this convention with my friend Jane. You might know her- she’s with Thor? Up for a nobel prize? No?” 

Tony just stared at her. 

“Okay, so it’s ‘1950’s mad scientist day’ and I thought I’d dress up a little, ya know? Except almost no one else did, and...” she sighed. “Anyway, so I was looking cute as hell and keeping Jane from punching Reed Richards right in his stupid smug little face, when Nat called me and asked me to come in. So I did.” 

“Let me get this straight. Nat. Natasha. Called...  _ you _ .” 

Darcy made a face. “Jesus man, you don’t need to have such a freaking... tone about it. I’m an omega not a doorstop. Plus, I’m used to weird. Did Nat ever tell you about the rabbit thing?” 

“Rabbit thing.” 

“Yeah. Loki turned Sif into this rabbit, and we had to smuggle her across the english channel. Nat’s going to get me a SHIELD taser and I’m gonna upgrade it so that I can take that pointy eared bastard DOWN next time.” She took a drink from her water bottle. “My old one wasn’t powerful enough.” 

More staring. “You... you hit Loki with a taser?” 

She made a face. “It worked on Thor! How was I supposed to know that being all... green magic stuff made him extra taser resistant?” 

Stark regarded the tacos suspiciously. 

“I’m sorry... Jarvis? Am... am I awake right now?” 

“Unfortunately, yes sir.” Jarvis said reproachfully. “You have only slept for 1 and a half hours over the past 2 days. May I suggest you finish your snack and go back to bed?” 

“Dude!” Darcy gasped, shocked. “What the fuck? Where the hell is your wrangler?” 

Tony looked at her, and apparently gave up. 

“I...” he sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I am just so  _ done _ with today...” he muttered. 

“Eat your tacos,” Darcy said, suddenly feeling protective. He was a Crazy Genius Scientist and he didn’t have a freakin wrangler? That was crazy scientist 101. You needed a wrangler to make sure that they ate and slept and didn’t try to plug the doohickey  _ and _ the doodad into the same circuit breaker as the toaster. 90% of blown circuits were because Jane was always forgetting and just randomly plugging things in. 

Darcy’s phone buzzed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call me crazy, but has no-one else noticed how dark and full Downey's lashes are in the Avengers movies? Especially in the scene where Tony Stark talks to Rogers on the Helicarrier?


	13. Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: self-hatred and Alcoholism. Tony’s not in the best place mentally, so there’s some serious negative introspection. He’s also an alcoholic, and struggles a bit with sobriety in this chapter. 
> 
> This chapter is a long one. Get your drinks and snacks ready.

“Let me get this straight,” Tony said slowly. “There was a ‘mad scientist’ day at a conference... for actual scientists.” 

“Yes,” said Darcy, miserably. 

“And in the spirit of said day, they had a ‘dooms-day machine’ build off,” Tony said wearily. 

“It was supposed to be fun! Even Jane and I sent one in! It was cardboard, yeah, but it had lots of ominous dials on it and did this little countdown thing- I mean, I made it and put Jane’s name on it-” 

Tony held up a finger and Darcy stopped talking.

“And now... Reed Richards and some guy...”

“Victor Something,” Darcy supplied helpfully. 

“Are in some sort of scientist feud, so they both sent in real, working dooms-day devices.” 

“Jane says that Richards says that his was supposed to be harmless-” 

The finger shook, so Darcy shut up again. 

“And so now... Jarvis?” 

“There does appear to be a storm system forming over the Sheraton. The weather monitoring system on the roof is reporting wind gusts of up to 75 miles an hour and rising. A number of guests have complained on twitter about the sprinklers going off.” 

Tony sighed, and rubbed his face again. “But that’s not the sprinklers. Is it Darcy?”

“Jane says no,” Darcy said miserably, and fiddled with her phone. 

“Right. Rain storm-”

“Actually... a hurricane? From... space... interacting with... cosmic...” Darcy said, consulting her text messages. 

“A STORM.  _ Inside. _ .. the Sheraton,” Tony cut her off. 

“Yes. The main ballroom actually.” 

Tony groaned. Of COURSE. This... this fucking goddamn day... 

“Can’t they... hit the machine with something?” Tony complained. 

“Jane already tried that. I got her nice solid wood baseball bat after the aluminum one dented during the whole rabbit thing-” 

Tony waved a hand. He could feel the migraine coming. 

“So..... I’m gonna go-” the woman said, reaching for her bag.

Tony’s eyes snapped to the omega in the ridiculous red pin up dress. “You?” he said, accusingly. “What the hell would  _ you _ do?” 

“Stop it, of course. Jane probably didn’t hit it right,” she said matter of factly, and started shoving things into her giant bag. 

He stared at her. Had he gone mad sometime in the last few hours? He’d always known that it was a matter of when, not if, of him going mad. He’d just assumed that he would... you know... notice it happening. 

Wasn’t that something you were supposed to notice? Surely villains (or at the very least their friends/minions) noticed the increase in evil chuckling? The sudden adoption of white and/or hairless cats? Was the lair on an island with a volcano the last straw or just a warning sign? For god’s sake, he owned several islands, one of which had an extinct volcano on it... Did a beach house count towards “a lair”? 

He blinked. Right. Mad scientists. Stopping them.  _ Focus, damnit.  _

“No,” he snapped. “You,” he pointed a finger accusing, “Will stay here. Stay with my pup,” he said slowly and clearly. 

She blinked at him, eyes wide. “He’s your pup?” 

And of course she latched onto the one thing he didn’t want her to care about. He snarled warningly.  “Hey! Cool! It’s fine!” she said, and threw her hands up. “If you’re going, that’d be great! Save my hair, you know?” she babbled. “Just leave me behind  _ again _ , and all that-”

He growled, ignoring her little rant, and stormed out of the hospital room. He was going to repulser blast the shit out of that stupid machine and then he was going to knock some heads together. 

Mad scientist day. _ Seriously? _

The elevator ride to get to his suit took longer than the flight to the Sheraton. He really had to hand it to them. The location really was conveniently located. Which meant that if whatever the fuck machine was causing this blew, it would take both the hotel and several tourist destinations with it. And if they were really really unlucky, maybe a major subway line as well. 

_ Fuck.  _

Nothing in his years of flying quite prepared him for the sudden wind shear he hit a few hundred feet out from the hotel. One moment he was flying normally, and the next he in serious danger of being slammed into a building that HAD been a comfortable distance away to on his left. 

He skidded to a screaming and concrete destroying halt, stopping mere inches from a hot dog cart. Which, in the scheme of things, was a small miracle. He really didn’t want to have to spend hours scrubbing hot dog water out of the joints in his suit. For some reason the wind wasn’t nearly as bad on the ground as it was higher up. 

“Okay... never doing that again,” he muttered. 

“Iron Man!” the vendor shouted. “What’s going on?” the man had to hold his hat on. 

“Evacuate!” he shouted, and turned around to look at the small crowd that had gathered to stare at the hotel. He walked up the sidewalk and to the top of the steps in front of the hotel. 

“EVERYONE EVACUATE. MOVE!” the speakers built into his suit rattled with pure decibels. Thankfully, the native New Yorkers didn’t have to be told twice, and quickly skedaddled, leaving the stupid tourists behind. There wasn’t much Tony could do for them right now. Well, there was- but he was in no mood to shepherd whole lemming clans away from cliffs right now. 

“Jarvis, call NYPD, tell them to set up a cordon,” Tony said. “Tell them I’m on it, but I want everyone out.”

“Yes sir.”

That would have to be good enough. 

He approached the front doors. A bellhop stared at him wide eyed until Tony snarked, “I don’t carry cash in my suit. And also- are you deaf? I very clearly just told everyone to evacuate.” 

The beta hurried to open the door for him. “Good. And run away as far as you can!” he called as he went into the building. He flipped up his helmet and instantly regretted it as his face was pelted with... did one call it rain when water fell in drop form a few inches from below a ceiling? Whatever. He flipped it back down and approached the woman at the front desk. Marble tiles slick with water crunched and broke under his weight. 

“What are you idiots waiting for? Evacuate the building already!” 

“We’re working on it- the water is shorting out the-”

The lights went off. 

“The speakers,” the drenched woman finished, sounding defeated. 

The emergency lights flickered on. Tony would take it. 

“What’s your protocol?” he asked. Thankfully, the worst of the wind was outside. They didn’t have to shout to be heard. Just speak loudly. 

“The porters and housekeepers are going door to door. The northwest stairs don’t seem to be affected. We’re sending them out into the back parking garage.” 

“They need to go out further. I don’t want the building to collapse on them. And how long until you’re clear?” 

“Another 10 minutes?” 

“You have 5. If anyone’s stupid enough to stay, that’s on them. I want you and all the workers out of here in the next 5 minutes, you hear me?” 

The woman looked near to tears. “Yes sir,” she said, and started talking into a walkie talkie in rapid Spanish. 

“Jarvis?” he asked. 

“The Metropolitan Ballroom is located on the second floor,” Jarvis said, and a building layout appeared in his HUD. 

Tony sighed. Of course. And between the power outage and him not trusting elevators in general with his suits, it looked like he was hoofing it. 

Thank god he’d practiced going up stairs in the suit. He would make a point of not mentioning this fact to Natasha ever. She’d be way to smug that she was right to ever let him forget it. 

The stairs were, of course, in the back of the enormous hotel lobby tucked away in a corner. And the marble floors were becoming slicker by the minute as the water puddled, poured, or ran as it saw fit beneath his feet. It was like walking on an ice rink. The ceilings were high enough to hover... but he couldn’t guarantee he’d not fall over at the end of a mini-flight and turtle himself (It was on his to-do list to fix, okay?).

So careful boring plodding it was. 

God, he was donating so many freaking rugs to this place when they remodeled. 

He made it without falling embarrassingly on his ass, and contemplated the tiny, made for un-armored people, emergency stairs. He sighed. 

Right. It was just one flight. One flight of small stairs that currently had a small river going down them. 

And they weren’t carpeted. 

FUCK. 

There were little plastic grippy stripes on the edge of each stair- he’d hand it to the public building codes for that. But he highly doubted that it would make up for the water. 

For a brief moment he considered just blasting his way up- but stairwell walls were almost always load bearing walls. And there were still some staff around... somewhere. So no blasting. For now. 

He started up. 

It was quiet here. Just the running of the water, his breathing, and the whir of his armored joints working. And of course his brain, always in overdrive, took this time to look over just how fucked up his life was. 

He hummed, trying to stave off the inevitable, to not think about those vapid girls on that girl’s phone that had somehow managed to find some of his worst insecurities and hit them with a battle axe. 

Like, he knew that Steve was too good for him.  _ He knew that.  _ But now that they mentioned a fated mate... it made sense. Fated Mates were things you found in fairy tales and rumors of how your second cousin’s best friend’s roommate's mom was a fated mate. They went on talk shows sometimes, talking about how “magical” their first meeting had been. How’d they’d just...  _ known. _

If anyone deserved a fated mate, it would definitely be Steve. 

And Steve and Tony’s first meeting had been anything but “magical”. It was more like a collision of two icebergs of egos. Both unstoppable, both huge behemoths, both very very fragile when you got down to it. 

But Steve was fragile... in how do you put it? The Right Ways. By friends being dead. By being thrust into a strange new land. Steve could outgrow this- adapt, overcome, and was already well on his way. 

Tony? Tony was... Not That. He had secrets to protect. Being a male omega was just scratching the surface there. Like, how he had a real honest to god heart condition that if Fury knew about, he would most definitely bench him for. Everyone knew about the shrapnel, and how the reactor kept them from his heart. But so far, no one had guessed that it also served as a very glowy pacemaker. If he had surgery to remove it (like Steve had been hinting at lately), he’d have to have an actual pacemaker installed. And that would involve surgeons. And records. And Fury with his god damned nosiness and sticky fingers for files would find out. 

_ Steve _ would find out. And Steve would... 

Steve would...

He didn’t know what Steve would do. Leave him? Kick him off the team? Both at the same time? Probably both. 

_ Definitely _ both. 

Anyway, there was no outgrowing that. So far he’d managed to keep Steve hooked (did he? He still wasn’t sure what the fuck the alpha saw in him anyway) without giving too much away... but the cracks were starting to show. 

And lets be real here. He was, after all, a very MALE omega. With all the bits and so on that that implied. And he’d seen the way Steve looked.... Well. Definitely glanced at female omegas. (Steve was a god damned boy scout and had probably never ogled anyone in his life. But Tony knew that sort of glance when he saw it.) Steve, he’d noticed, was a bit of an ass man. And Tony... well. He had an ass. But it wasn’t good for much more than sitting on. There was, to be clear, no twerking career in his future. 

_ Maybe he should do some lunges? You did lunges to get a bigger ass, right? _

Not to mention he was just... a garbage human being. Right now, for instance, if willpower were able to summon things into existence, he’d have at least 2 bottles of whiskey in his hands right now. And the back of his mind was already screaming things about hotels and minibars. 

He paused for a moment.  _ Later. _ He’d get drunk... later. It’d be a reward. If he stopped this thing and didn’t collapse the building, he was totally going to strip several floors of their mini bars. The kitchens would have wine, right? Isn’t that where these fancy hotels kept the bottles for room service, right? 

He’d get black out drunk, and maybe he’d be able to sleep for a while. That would be nice. He missed sleep. 

He’d actually slept pretty well when he’d cuddled Peter after the robot shenanigans. But Peter wasn’t a stuffed animal. And there was no socially acceptable way to say “Hey, please come share a bed with me and snuggle” to a 15 year old when you were a fucking old man. 

_ God, he was getting too old for this.  _

He was already pushing 40. And his right knee had this... click in it that it didn’t use to. And his left elbow. And his ankles. And... fuck it. Most of his joints were just probably just absolute trash anymore.

He reached a landing. A fucking, god damned landing. He sighed. It was probably because of the stupid high ceilings in the lobby. He checked the clock on his HUD. The front desk chick should have evacuated by now if she followed his instructions. 

Right. Stairs. Just a few more, and he could shoot things and get stupidly drunk. It shouldn’t take much. It had been at least 8 months since he’d had so much as a sip. His tolerance should be lower now- maybe a handful of those tiny vodka bottles would be enough...

“Sir, you have a call from the Tower,” Jarvis said. 

**PETER.**

“Take it, J,” he babbled. Had something happened while he was gone? Fuck, if it had, he wasn’t busting heads together he was just going to straight up shoot these idiots, fuck the paperwork-

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was concerned.

“Is Peter okay?” Tony asked hurriedly. 

“Last I heard he was sleeping-”

Tony let out a breath.  _ Thank god.  _

“But, Jarvis says you’re not in the Tower?” 

....

Oh. Right. Doomsday machine. He’d just... flown off. Without telling anyone. Like his pack-leader. Or his alpha. Who were in fact the same person. 

“Um...” Tony said. “I’m... I’m at the Sheraton,” he said truthfully. But he’d hesitated slightly, damn him. 

Silence.  “Tony... why does it sound like you’re in your suit?” 

_ Fuck, he was in trouble.  _

“I dunno. Maybe the acoustics are weird or something-” When in doubt, double down. “I heard they do a good brunch-” 

A loud clap of thunder came from the floor above him, and made Tony wince. 

_ “Tony, where are you?”  _

“I told you I’m at the Sheraton,” Tony snapped, edgy now that he was backed into a corner. 

There was some talking in the background on Steve’s end.

“Is this the same Sheraton that is being evacuated and has some weird weather thing going on?” Steve demanded, now clearly angry. 

“I have it under control,” Tony flat out lied. “It’s fine-”

Another crack of thunder. Somewhere upstairs someone was shouting. 

He tried to hurry up. 

“Tony-” Steve started. 

“I have it under control,” Tony hissed. “I’m FINE-” He reached the top of the stairs, and saw a small huddle of people who were shouting at each other over the noise of the wind in the lee of a fancy elevator bank. “Sorry babe, gotta go.” 

“Tony!” 

Tony hung up. For a futurist, he had absolute garbage long term decision making skills. Steve was going to lose his goddamn mind when he got back. 

But for now... Steve wasn’t yelling at him. 

Well. He probably was. But Tony couldn’t hear him. So... win? 

But now- now people. _ Idiots.  _

“Why haven’t you evacuated?” he demanded. “You should get out of here!” 

“It’s his fault!” a brunette beta woman insisted, shoving a blue eyed alpha roughly. Or at least, tried to. She was 90 pounds soaking wet, and she barely came to his shoulders. The man hardly moved. “He won’t turn it off!” she protested. 

She also had a wooden baseball bat in her hands. It had dents in it. 

_ Interesting.  _

“I assure you I did turn it off!” the man shouted. “And it’s all  _ your _ fault!” the alpha lunged towards the other alpha, but stopped just short of overturning the beta woman. “You ruin EVERYTHING!” 

“How is it my fault!? My machine is passive and measures cosmic radiation-”

“How is it passive when it causes a feedback loop AND a cascading failure- it shouldn’t even be  _ possible _ -”

“STOP FIGHTING!” a blonde omega looked close to tears. “Why? Why can’t you just work together this one time-”

“Because it’s his fault! It’s _ always _ his fault!” the blue eyed alpha roared. 

A 20% power repulsor blast to a nearby innocent potted plant quickly brought back order.

“Hi. I’m Iron Man. There’s a literal doomsday device in the other room that’s causing some sort of indoor hurricane. Lets just say we accept that all men suck and move on, shall we?” 

He turned to the “It was just a passive thing” alpha. “What happened?” 

The other alpha snarled at being ignored, but Tony chose to ignore that. 

“It was Victor’s turn to present, his... ‘device’-” Tony could hear the air quotes there, “and I turned mine on to see if his was working like he said it was-” 

“But then it went crazy,” the beta interrupted. “I hit it with my bat when he wouldn’t turn it off-” 

“Why the bat? Who the hell brings a bat to a conference?” the omega protested. “You only made it worse!” 

“It’s worked just fine before!” the beta protested. “I’ve taken down stupid magic outer space elves with a bat before-

Tony narrowed his eyes. What had that girl back at the tower babbled about-

“You’re Jane.... Fossy?” Tony demanded, pointing. 

“Foster actually.” 

“Any chance you have a panic button for Thor?” 

She sighed heavily. “No. I don’t.” 

There was a lot packed into that sentence. Most of it negative. Tony could sympathize. Aside from Steve and Pepper, he’d had a lot of horrible dates. Two of which had actually thrown him  _ towards _ people trying to kidnap him in their attempts to save themselves. So yeah. He could relate. 

“Has anyone tried to hit the other device yet? The ‘passive’ one?” 

“It’s not the one going crazy-” the omega protested. “Reed’s doesn’t actually DO anything-” 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s on the stage on top of the other one.” Reed spoke up. “It’s physically attracted to Victor’s- I couldn’t pry it off-” 

“Right. This should be easy enough. You guys should go though. I don’t know how much it’ll explode when I shoot it.” 

“That’s probably not-”

“You can’t just shoot it-”

“You’ll give more energy to the feedback loop-”

Everyone started talking over each other. 

Tony shot another plant. Silence again. 

“Who’s the superhero in a giant fucking scientific marvel? Oh, yeah. That’s me.” he said. “I’m shooting the fucking thing. Now get out of here.” 

Without looking back, he angrily stomped into the conference room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cut folks. But it was either cut it there or have a stupidly long chapter. And I’m trying to shove this story out the door and into the “finished & published” pile as quickly as possible. So... yeah. (Also if you’re a Fantastic Four fan, please forgive me of the many, many sins I’m about to commit in the next chapter.)


	14. I Get a Little Bit Ghenghis Khan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last few chapter titles have been song titles or lyrics. And I know. I haven’t forgotten Peter. Answers for that are coming. I just have to lay the groundwork for a later marshmallow fluff scene involving Steve and Tony that will be much more satisfying once you know all the baggage everyone is carrying. 
> 
> Also, I thought this would be more entertaining than “Tony woke up when Pepper arrived.” (That’s so boring! Info dumps are much more acceptable when you surround them with explosions!) 
> 
> This chapter is hot off the presses. Editing? What’s that? I don’t know her.

Tony stomped into the ballroom.

The second he crossed the doorway it felt like someone had flipped a switch on one of those stupid wind machines they used for making it look like a hurricane was happening in movies. Thankfully, due to the weight of his suit, it barely budged him.

The rain- if you could call it rain- was mostly sideways here. It was a bit like trying to walk while someone sprayed you with a hose. He was in his suit so he was still dry, but the sound of the rain hitting his suit was... annoying.

But what held his attention was the raised stage. Or at least, what was left of it. The back wall had blown out, and bits of sunshine were petering through despite the clouds. But that was nothing compared to what was on the stage.

A ball of... power?? Floated on the stage. If he looked closely he could see ripples and waves in it. It reminded him of the surface of the sun. From far away it would look flat, but close up it swirled with storms and barely chained chaos. It was white... blue... no. So white it became blue. Or was it the other way around?

It was beautiful.

“Sir, I recommend you do something before it interacts with the surrounding structures-” Jarvis offered, knocking Tony from his thoughts.

Right. He had to turn the damn thing off. Below the... orb, thing, whatever- there was a small wooden box about the size of a carry on suitcase sitting on a wood paneled stage. On top of it was another device that looked like a highly modified geiger counter.

He sighed. Took a few steps closer, and aimed at the box. Powered up... and fired..

He watched as the blast flew towards the stage, then curved upwards, and was eaten by the glowing ball.

He frowned, and tried again, this time with more power.

It happened again. And was that his imagination, or did the ball... grow ever so slightly?

Shit. He was too far away.

He tried again, this time halfway between the stage and the door. Failure.

Fuck it. He’d just punch the fucking thing. It was made of wood. One good hit would stop this nonsense.

It was a solid plan, right up until he crossed the last row of metal banquet chairs closest to the stage and started to slide towards the damn thing.

“Sir, I am detecting an unexplained power drain,” Jarvis said. Various graphs and gauges appeared in his HUD. Something was draining his reactor.

He’d last changed the core something like two weeks ago, so he’d already started out the day at around 50%. With his power armor usage so far today, he’d expect to be around 45%.

It was down to 38% and falling.

Shit.

And he was still sliding. In fact, the closer he got, the faster he slid.

He caught himself on the edge of the stage and held himself there.

“Sir- the drain has increased-” Jarvis said, and the graphs turned red.

“I can see that,” Tony snapped.

33%. How the fuck was it draining so godamn _ fast _?

“Engage thrusters. Get me out of here, Jarvis!”

“Engaging emergency thrusters. I am also sending an alert to your alpha as per emergency protocols-”

Tony struggled as the thrusters threw him to the ground. “When the fuck did I add that protocol?!” he demanded, breathless. He wasn’t moving towards it anymore, which was a good thing. But now he was turtled.

_ Damnit. _

“Captain Rogers asked me to. He is your alpha and pack leader-”

“So that means he gets to add new protocols?!” Tony demanded indignantly, and started to push with feet. Sure, he could use his feet thrusters, but that would probably set things on fire. He didn’t want to be roasted on top of everything else.

“There is no rule that says he cannot,” Jarvis pointed out.

“Yeah, well, new rule. He can’t do that anymore,” Tony snarled, and pushed harder. He inched backwards. “The only one who can reprogram you is ME, you got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony felt like he was making progress. He was almost to the first row of chairs.

“Power is now at 20%”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tony chanted under his breath. He wasn’t making progress. The chairs were just sliding closer. One slid past him, and halted at the edge of the stage. As he watched, it started to climb the tiny half wall vertically.

He panted. Fuck. This was so godamn stupid! This was NOT how he was going to die! He was not going to be eaten by something that two freakin’ _ alpha _ scientists made for a “dooms-day device” build off for fucking “mad scientist” day. For one thing, it would totally ruin his biography.

“15%” Jarvis said.

“Shut up and put it on the screen,” he snapped. “Double the thrusters!”

“Thrusters are at maximum-”

“Turn on the foot thrusters!” They were going to have to remodel anyway.

He slid backwards about two feet before he started inching towards the stage again. The carpet around him started to catch fire, in spite of the rain.

None of this made sense- something was seriously wrong. The stage’s surface hadn’t even so much as buckled, but the chairs...

_ The chairs. _

_ The METAL chairs, and the WOOD stage- _

FUCK. How could he be so _ stupid _??

_ It was magnetic. _

“Eject, eject, eject!” he shouted.

Tiny explosive charges built into the seams of the suit went off, and various pieces flew off him and instantly started their flight towards the ball of death on stage. He rolled out of the suit, frantically shedding his gauntlets and scrabbling at the floor. The suit made horrible scraping noises as it skidded, tumbled upwards, and then vanished into the stupid ball without so much as a ripple.

He held his breath, and waited to be horrifically wrong.

And for a just a moment when he didn’t start to slide... he thought he was safe.

Then the glowing hunk of metal in his chest flickered. He didn’t even have to see it to know that it was flickering. He could _ taste _ it.

SHIT.

His chest burned. Was the damn thing trying to pull the whole thing, housing and all, out? Or was he just running out of power?

He didn’t have time to find out. He army crawled back towards safety. Once he was within a foot of the door, hands reached out and dragged him the rest of the way out.

“It’s magnetic! You fucking bastards could have mentioned that!” he spat.

“We didn’t know!” Victor, protested. Of course, no one had followed his god damned instructions, and the little crowd of scientists were all still there. They propped him up against a wall.

Tony panted, trying to catch his breath. He wondered what percentage he was at. He couldn’t remember what the read out had said before he bailed. It was possible that he was still too close to the damn thing and his reactor was still being drained.

_ Oh god, he wanted Steve. _

“Anyone have a phone?” he demanded.

“Sorry, mine died like ages ago,” Foster said.

The others agreed.

Fuck, he was still too close.

“TONY!?”

Oh god, he knew that bellow anywhere. Thank _ fuck. _

“Here!” he called back. “Second floor!” he didn’t even have to yell that loud. Steve with his stupid super hearing would hear him.

He was right. Approximately two seconds later the drenched alpha was up the stairs and charging over to Tony, ignoring the rain. Bucky only a step behind him.

“Oh my god- Tony-” Steve said, sounding bereft. He started running hands down Tony’s body, probably checking for injuries.

“What happened?” Bucky demanded.

“There’s a machine on the stage. Stark went to shoot it- but it’s magnetic. I think it ate his suit-” Foster started.

“Is just one machine causing all of this?” Steve demanded.

“There’s a second one on top of it. They’re interacting and feeding off each other-” Victor said. “I turned mine off, but Reed-”

“I didn’t get a chance!” Reed protested. “There was a giant ball of death forming! I ran for it!”

Bucky ducked into the doorway to peek.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “How is he Stevie?”

“I’m... I’m not hurt,” Tony said, and shivered. He was wet and was getting cold far faster than he’d like. The reactor flickered again. “You have to shut it down-”

“I’m on it-” Bucky said.

“NO!” at least 3 people all shouted at the same time. Startled, Bucky froze. “What?”

“It’s magnetic! It ATE my suit! You think you’re going to get far with that arm of yours?” Tony demanded.

Bucky blinked. “Fair point...” he muttered.

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve said grimly.

Tony reached out and snatched at a strap on Steve’s chest. Steve stilled, and waited.

“Lose the shield,” he said. “And the guns. And the belts. It’s getting bigger. It... it’s feeding off my reactor-” a horrible rattling cough shook him. He suspected he was breaking out in cold sweat. Was it his imagination or did he just feel something... _ shift _ inside him? Wonderful. FUCK. The stupid thing might have affected the shrapnel...

He seriously needed a drink. Maybe he could grab one on the way out?

He looked up to see Steve and Bucky both looking stricken.

“Tony...” Steve was hesitating. He looked worried. Why was he hesitating?

“It’s... nothing. I’m fine. What are you waiting for? Hurry up and kill it!”

God his chest burned. He let go of Steve to clutch his reactor and whined in pain.

Steve and Bucky shared an unreadable look, having a rapid fire silent conversation that consisted mainly of minute head tilts, lifted eyebrows, and varying degrees of pursed lips.

Bucky eventually snorted, but nodded. “Right,” he said, but he didn’t sound happy about it.

Steve hastily shucked off the offending items, down to his belt buckle.

Bucky sat down next to Tony and gathering him close. “Shh... Stevie’s gonna kill it for you, yeah?” he murmured. Tony didn’t miss how the man took his gloves off and felt Tony’s forehead and back with his flesh hand- checking his temperature no doubt.

Sneaky bastard.

“Hit the device on top first-” Victor was saying. “Susan, please. You need to leave-”

“Not without Reed!” she protested.

Victor glared at Reed. “What are you waiting for- take her to safety!”

“We’re fine! And I _ need _ to see this- the scientific discovery alone-”

“We stay here,” Bucky said. “Steve- take the baseball bat.”

“Good idea,” Steve said, “Ma’am?”

Foster handed over her bat reluctantly. “Thor gave me that. Don’t break it.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Steve said shortly, and strode into the ballroom.

Tony closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. God, he was tired. Part of him wanted to watch, but the other, larger part of him wanted a shot of something. Anything.

“Anyone have a drink?” he said, before he could stop himself. “Vodka maybe?”

“Tony-” Bucky said, clearly disappointed.

“I’m sorry, I meant seltzer water.” Tony waited a beat. “With some whiskey in it. Or Everclear. I gotta be honest, I’ll take tequila at this point I’m not picky.”

Bucky sighed. “You know you don’t mean that Tony,” he said sadly.

Tony sighed, and leaned against him. “Don’t tell Steve,” he muttered after a moment.

Bucky hummed. “How’s it going?” he asked the peanut gallery. The scientists were all gathered around the door to the ballroom, looking like children in a movie trying to catch a peak of Santa Claus without being caught.

“He doesn’t seem to be affected by it.” Reed reported. “He’s made it to the stage no problem.”

“Get over here. I want you folks behind cover when it goes,” Bucky ordered, then shifted Tony so that Bucky was between him and the wall. Like that would help with something if the thing went nuclear.

Tony shivered. He needed to get back to his lab- needed to replace the core- but would it matter if he only had minutes left?

“Where’s your phone?” he demanded. Bucky shouldn’t have been near the damn thing long enough to drain it already- hopefully. “I need it!”

Bucky leaned a bit, and produced a flip phone from a pouch.

“Oh my god, do they even still sell these?” he demanded. “I’m making you something better when we get back,” he grumbled automatically.

“It’s harder to destroy and gets signal in the middle of nowhere,” Bucky retorted. “And there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Tony snorted, flipped it open. Apparently they made modern flip phones with bluetooth in them. Who knew?

He reached into his shirt, and after a moment, found a tiny switch on the housing unit by feel. He clicked it on with a fingernail. Then he turned the bluetooth on the phone on, and dialed a number. It was the only one he had memorized.

“You have reached the Stark Personal Secure Server-” Jarvis’ voice was like heaven.

“Jarvis! Connect to my core through this freaking phone and give me a readout, would you?”

There was a moment as Jarvis worked his magic.

“Sir, I would highly recommend that you return to your workshop immediately-” Jarvis sounded worried.

“Yeah, I know, I know. How much _ time _do I have?”

“At current energy usage, you have 20 minutes before emergency backup power is fully depleted.”

Tony hurriedly reached to unpress the button on the housing. Bluetooth was an energy hog. He didn’t want it to steal precious seconds from him. After the reactor went off, he had maybe another 5 minutes before his heart went into full arrhythmia. And another 5 after that before the shrapnel started to work loose.

Actually scratch that, after his adventure with the worlds’ largest magnet, he probably only had the first 5.

So.

25 minutes before he actively started to die. Steve could probably power walk his way back to the tower in... 10? 15 maybe? Add in the elevator to his workshop that was damn near the top floor... of a nearly hundred floor building...

FUCK

“Tell Steve to smash the damn thing already!” he shouted at the peanut gallery. He didn’t dare move just yet. Didn’t want to be downstairs if the floor went- Steve could haul him out the side of the building, yeah? He’d seen him leap off... well, really tall stuff before no problem.

Bucky, reacting to some sort of signal known only to him, pushed Tony into the floor and laid on top of him.

Light- brighter than anything he’d ever seen before flashed, and the rain and the wind just... stopped. Like someone had thrown a switch.

Tony had his eyes closed from the flash when the BOOM came. It rattled his bones and for a moment, stole his breath away. Dust went flying, and somewhere from the peanut gallery there was a shout of pain.

Then... silence.

“Steve?” Tony called. It had never even occurred to him before that he might survive and not Steve until that very second.

“Steve?” Tony was a bit hysterical now.

“Shh... I’ll get him,” Bucky said, and got off him to go investigate.

Tony sat up, wincing, and tried not to hyperventilate.

Steve, of course, would be fine. He couldn’t be not fine. He was a super soldier. He’s lived through all sorts of explosions-

Victor, however, was not fine. He held a hand to his face while blood leaked out around it.

“Susan? Are you alright?” he demanded, as Foster tried to pry his hand off to get a look at the damage.

“I’m... I’m okay,” she said, sounding rattled from her place on the floor. “Where’s Reed?”

“He went into the ballroom already,” Foster said grimly, clearly unimpressed.

“I’m fine!” Victor snapped at Foster, batting her hands away and rushed over to kneel by Susan.

“Susan-”

“I’m okay,” she repeated, but she sounded sad about it.

“WHY?” Victor demanded. “Why are you with him? He... he ignores you! Abandons you! He has no regard for anyone’s safety! If you stay with him, he’s going to get you KILLED!”

Susan sat up. Tony couldn’t see her facial expression from here, but from Victor’s reaction, it wasn’t what he was hoping for.

“He’s my alpha,” she said firmly.

Victor whined. “**_I_ ** was your alpha-”

“He is my alpha _ now_, Victor. You have to accept that-”

“BUT WHY? Everything was going so well! What the hell happened? What did I _ do_?”

She sighed, and stood.

“You didn’t do anything, Victor. Reed and I are Fated. That’s all.”

Victor was not the only one who froze at that while Susan calmly started to walk into the ballroom.

Shit.

SHIT.

SHIT.

If she'd left Victor for fucking _Richards_...

What fucking chance did Tony have when Steve found his Fated Mate?

_Oh god. Steve... Steve would never speak to him again. That's what would happen.  
_

The panic attack that had been waiting quietly in the wings all day slammed into him full force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we’re probably not going to see the fantastic four characters again in this book, I thought I’d explain my reasoning for the disaster. 
> 
> Victor’s device emitted a harmless wavelength of energy. Reed’s device accidentally changed the frequency/resonance/whatever of that wavelength (ever so slightly), and together, with the power of sheer dumbassery and Plot Device, managed to open a rift into the Negative Zone. 
> 
> According to the Wikipedia article I read, this creates “a crackling energy source roughly six feet across.” (I am assuming this means some sort of orb) Since that wasn’t quite scratching my drama queen itch, I added the weird weather effects. It also says that “nearby matter is sucked into” it. I took some creative liberty in making it magnetic.
> 
> It says that the portal is “an energy source” but... I’m not buying that. Energy doesn’t come for free. So it’s a greedy bastard in my version. You want entrance to the Negative Zone? You’d best leave your cell phone behind. 
> 
> And for the love triangle(?)... Doom and Susan were dating in college until she met his roommate, Richards. Add in the fact that Richards may or may not have stolen some of Doom's work/ideas/projects, and cue Doom despising Richards for all time. HINT: Doom is absolutely not going to take “We’re fated” as a no. Instead he’s going to take it as a “If I were a perfect Alpha she’ll come back to me” and thus all the “I'm the king of Latveria, and eventually the world, and I’ll give her Australia, and she’ll love me forever-” that he becomes obsessed with later. And in this chapter he gets the scar on his face that he'll cover up with that ridiculous helmet that he wears. 
> 
> And of course, Doom is right. Richard’s total lack of self preservation and just dumb assery is what will eventually result in them all being exposed to the solar storm thing that gives them their powers as he chases down how to recreate the “ball of death”. 
> 
> And that, my friends, is my version of the Fantastic Four origin story. Feel free to steal it or expand on it as you wish.


	15. Independence Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Independence Day” is a song by Martina McBride that came out in 1993. I don’t remember when I first heard it, but it left an impression. I think it’s a fair summary of Tony’s overall childhood. You can watch the official music video on youtube here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VPpAZ9_qAw (Warning: there are depictions of domestic violence in the video.)
> 
> Tags: Panic attacks, Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting, Domestic Violence (memories of)
> 
> Sorry folks. It has to get worse before it gets better. Steve needs to get a glimpse of just how much baggage Tony has been hiding from him. This is the way. 
> 
> The good news? This story will have a happy ending. I promise. 
> 
> I've also updated the story summary and tags.

Tony lost precious minutes as he struggled for breath. Somewhere, someone - Foster probably, she was the only competent one of lot - was shouting.

All Tony knew was that suddenly, there was Steve.

One minute he was gone and leaving Tony forever and ever to die miserable and alone and the next he was kneeling next to him, and holding him.

Tony latched onto him like a drowning man would a hunk of driftwood, and gasped.

“Shh.... it’s okay baby. I’m here. I’m here,” Steve said into his hair while Tony tried to remember how to breathe again.

Tony blinked. He was forgetting something. Something important. He shuddered as his reactor blinked, and the ever present faint aftertaste of coconut faltered. It was amazing how quickly you never really noticed something until it started to not be there anymore.

“Steve...” he whined.

The man unhelpfully pressed tiny gentle kisses to his forehead and cheeks and rubbed Tony’s scent glands. Tony shivered as he felt the panic attack abate.

“STEVE-”

“I’m here baby- it’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. It was FAR from okay. And this fucking _ alpha _ was to busy trying to turn Tony’s legs to jelly to hear him. He swatted weakly at Steve’s chest, making him stop his ministrations.

“Steve- I need-”

“Need what honey? I’m right here-”

This man was going to be the death of him. Literally.

“My lab. Need my lab-”

“I think you need to go to Medical first, honey-”

_ “Steve-” _the man never interrupted. And now he was the goddamn interrupting cow.

“Steve, I have 20 minutes before my reactor fails-” Tony complained. Or tried to. It came out as more of a whine.

“It’ll be okay. You have more at the Tower, right?” Steve said, apparently both getting it and missing the point entirely. Only Steve could manage that, Tony thought, thoroughly irritated now.

“YES-”

“Well then we’ll go. But Medical first.” Steve’s voice was calm. Gentle. Not nearly as panicked as Tony needed him to be. He even gave Tony another gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Steve-” Tony found the will to regain proper control of his limbs, grabbed onto Steve’s collar and hauled him close. “When the reactor stops I start to _ die _ ,” he said urgently into his ear, _ willing _ him to understand. “I _ need _to get to my lab-”

Steve stiffened. “What?”

There was the fear Tony was looking for. “Get me to my lab, NOW-” Tony hissed, wishing desperately he had the strength to literally shake some sense into his mate.

“Are you serious?” Steve asked, frozen.

“YES! Help me!”

It turned out that Steve could run it in 6 minutes. Tony wasn’t entirely sure how Steve had managed the stairs- he seemed to go down them at least 4 at a time, and Tony hadn’t even known that was _ possible _ (the long legged tall bastard). AND he’d not smacked Tony’s head against anything at all during the whole “running full tilt down semi-crowded city streets” while also carrying Tony princess-style.

It would have been downright impressive if Tony wasn’t in the process of doing his best to not lose his shit again.

The man barely slowed down for the fucking door to the lobby. Tony had a feeling that had that automatic door been just a tiny bit less responsive, Steve would have just kicked the damn thing down without even stopping.

He tucked his head into the crook of Steve’s neck and tried to get his heart to slow down. Maybe then he’d use less power?

“Lab, Jarvis- as fast as possible,” Steve snapped when they reached the private elevator.

“Yes sir,” Jarvis said. Even he sounded strained.

As they waited, (Steve not even out of breath- how was that FAIR?) Steve kissed his forehead, and breathed in the scent of Tony’s soaking hair. “Shhhh.... It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Tony wasn’t sure who Steve was trying to convince. He held on anyway.

It was the second longest elevator ride of Tony’s life.

When they finally arrived, the door to the safe holding extra cores was open, and even had a spot light on it.

“Captain, he needs a new core,” Jarvis said politely.

When the fuck had Tony installed a spotlight in his lab? He couldn’t remember. But it wasn’t important. Steve was intelligent enough to know a fucking clue when he saw it, and headed right for it.

Steve carefully put Tony down on the floor and raided the safe.

Tony stripped his shirt off tried to unscrew the damn cylinder thing... but his hands were shaking. He tried twice, his hands slipping each time. He wiped his hands off on his pants but they were equally soaked and did nothing to help him. He whined in panicked frustration.

“I’ve got it-” Steve said, and twisted.

“Careful- don’t-” Tony protested. “You have to-”

“I know,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “Hold still.”

“You have two minutes, Captain,” Jarvis said.

Tony watched in confusion as Steve skillfully twisted, AND clicked the hidden release button at the same time, freeing a small cylinder from his chest. The depleted core popped out, and Steve deftly removed it, and replaced it with a new one. Then he carefully put it back in with just a quarter turn. The housing unit in Tony’s chest recognized it, and spun it in the rest of the way.

“How- how did you know how to do that?” Tony asked when he felt like he could speak again over the sudden strong taste of coconut. His voice was shaking, he noted.

“I practiced,” Steve said simply. He was back to holding Tony and smelling his hair again.

Tony almost absently bared his neck. Steve, thankfully, was quick to take the hint, and instantly pressed a kiss to Tony’s bond mark. Tony shivered. He could feel his heart rate slowing. He was going to be okay.

_ They’d made it. _

They sat on the floor together for entirely too long. Steve seemed content to simply hold him and do his best to inhale Tony like he was some sort of cocaine- breathing deeply at Tony’s hair, and running light fingers over Tony’s bare skin. Tony, deeply exhausted on just about every possible level, was content to let the alpha do whatever the hell he wanted- just so long as he didn’t have to move.

Eventually, Steve’s words trickled through the sludge that was Tony’s brain.

“You practiced?” he asked quietly, skeptically.

Steve hummed an affirmative.

“On what?” Tony asked, audibly confused.

“On a prototype. I thought it prudent that someone know how to change the cores in case sir was somehow incapaticated,” Jarvis said.

Tony blinked. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It was either a deep betrayal or his greatest pride that his fucking AI was somehow conspiring - against him? For him? Both, somehow at the same time? Regardless, it was clearly behind his back.

“Remind me to reprogram you later,” he said. But the saying was almost a reflex now, and they both knew it was a vacant threat at best.

“Of course sir,” Jarvis said, with only the slightest trace of smugness.

Steve took one last inhale. “Okay. Lets go get dry, okay?”

Tony hummed in agreement and wordlessly wound his arms around Steve’s neck. Steve, on a roll with interpreting hints, picked him up and carried him to the elevator.

“You want a shower, sweetheart?” Steve asked as he stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse.

Tony probably badly needed a shower, but he just didn’t have the energy for that right now. And while showering with Steve held a certain... attractiveness, Tony didn’t want to deal with Steve if Steve got... handsy. He didn’t think he could up with a pouting Steve right now- because Tony would tell him no.

“Hmm. I think I’m gonna get changed and go to bed,” Tony said. “Jarvis? Can you call Bucky and tell him that the crisis was averted?” he asked as Steve set him down on an immaculate white couch.

“Already done sir. The Sergeant has instructed me to tell you that the next time you want to skip out on your SHIELD debriefing you needn’t be so dramatic.”

Both Steve and Tony snorted.

“Tell him that I owe him one,” Steve said, and gave Tony another small forehead kiss.

“Go shower,” Tony said, gently and fondly smacking Steve’s chest. “You smell like bad science.”

Steve rolled his eyes good humoredly but obeyed, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Tony winced and got up, checking- and yes, there was now a wet spot on the couch.

Muttering curses, he stumbled into his walk in closet, and dropped his wet stuff on the floor. He’d deal with it later. He managed some boxer shorts and a pair of soft sleep pants that had various curse words written in comic sans on them (thank you Clint!), and went back to the couch.

After a few moments of making faces at the spot, he threw a tiny and scratchy throw pillow on it.

If Pepper were here, she’d have a fit. She’d spent _ ages _ looking for the perfect white couch. This was probably the third time he’d ever sat on the damn thing. It was about as uncomfortable as it was extremely fashionable. Which was a lot.

He smacked some pillows and tried to make it work. He didn’t have the energy to go the common room where the good couches were.

The decorative throw that lived tastefully and artfully tossed over a corner of the couch wasn’t very warm or comfortable, but beggars can’t be choosers. He made due.

At least the TV was decent. He made sure of that when they built the place.

“Jarvis, TV,” he said. Who the hell knew where the remote was.

“Of course sir,” Jarvis said.

Something played, but he wasn’t paying attention. He’d need to track his phone down. Had it gone down with the suit? Was it in a wet pocket on his floor? Who knew?

He was tired down to his bones. But he knew that if laid down he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He was too tired to sleep. He’d just have to suffer until sleep caught him, and he passed out or fell over or whatever it was he did when he was functioning at -10% battery.

So he zoned out in front of the TV, and tried not to think about how, if he looked hard enough, he might find a bottle of Springbank 1919. Didn’t he hide one under the floorboards as joke for future builders/remodels? He couldn’t remember. It’d been ages since he’d had decent whiskey. Did he even still have the fancy large ice spheres delivered anymore?

“Hey-”

Tony snapped back to attention to find a mildly damp Steve Rogers in front of him, wearing a full set of matching pajamas. When had that happened? Did he take a shower already?”

“Hmmm? Yeah- what?”

“Thought you were going to bed?”

Tony shrugged listlessly.

“Tony-” there was something about that tone. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was exactly, but it made every single one of his brain cells switch to battle stations.

“We need to talk.” Steve’s tone was gentle. Firm.

Tony stared at him blank terror. “Okay,” he managed.

“About today.”

For a moment, Tony couldn’t breathe. So. He’d knew it’d happen eventually. Did it have to be today? Right fucking now? He knew he was a fuckup, damnit...

“I’m sorry-” he tried, trying to wriggle his way out of this. It was clear from his tone, though, that he didn’t really feel sorry. He winced.

Steve opened his mouth.

“I know. I know- I’m sorry, I really am,” now he just sounded miserable and annoyed. Why the fuck did he suck at communicating like this?

“Tony,” Steve said. And there was that fucking god damned TONE again. But stronger this time.

Tony’s mouth snapped shut out of reflex.

“You cannot just go off like that. You left without telling anyone-”

He found his eyes latched onto Steve’s knees, and let the words wash over him. The hands, he knew, he had to keep in his peripheral vision. You never could tell from tone or scent when the hit was going to come. But the hands- the hands never lied.

He focused on breathing. And watching the hands.

They clenched, and moved to Steve’s waist as he put them on his hips. Words kept happening. Tony couldn’t tell you what they were, except that they basically boiled down to “I did not know that a human being was capable of fucking up this much, and yet here we are.” He’d know- he had sat through countless of such lectures with his Dad.

And now, it seemed, Steve had taken up the mantle.

Not that he didn’t deserve it. _ Someone _had to keep him in line. Without his Dad around, Tony had fallen into drink and... well. Many things. Everything that it was possible to fall into, probably. And Steve- Steve had made it clear that those days were over.

Which wasn’t the worst thing. You can only party and pass out so many times a week for so many years before it becomes more of a chore than a hobby for escape.

And then it happened. “Tony- are you listening to me?” There went that _ tone _ again.

FUCK.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t do it again,” he said, voice flat, eyes still downcast. He felt oddly detached.

Steve sighed. It was one of those long, “I’m so disappointed and done with you” sighs.

The hands came off the hips.

Tony tried to brace himself without being obvious about it, and thanked whatever god that was listening that he wore scent blockers, otherwise the room would be stinking of pure Omegan terror right now, otherwise.

He wondered if Steve would go for his face or his gut. The gut would be easier to cover. He hoped he wouldn’t get a cracked rib out of this. Cracked ribs sucked.

“Tony-”

_ don’tflinchdon’tflinchdon’tflinch _

A hand moved towards his face.

Tony flinched.

The hand froze an inch from his face.

“Tony?” he didn’t recognize the tone there. But he knew he’d fucked up.

He was in for it now. Moving away from the hit always meant the next one would be worse. He had to take his lesson like man, after all.

“Sorry. Sorry,” he squeaked, and made an effort to sit more upright. One solid hit was better than 5 frustrated awkward angle ones. Plus it’d be over faster. It took an act of will not to hunch his shoulders. He kept his eyes on the ground. Watching the wind up was one of the parts he hated the most.

He took a breath. When had he started shaking? He couldn’t remember.

“Baby?”

The fucking hand moved again, and Tony squeezed his eyes shut, and ground his teeth together bracing for impact.

Only instead the fingers gently touched Tony’s face.

“Shhh... oh god, Tony- sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

And then Steve was hugging him. Why was Steve hugging him? Steve still smelled upset. It was confusing.

Even more aggravating was the high pitched horrible whining sound that seemed to be everywhere. It took him a moment to realize that it was coming from him. He tried to stop.

He hiccuped. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t_ breathe _\- then blackness took him.

He woke up on his back with some sort of heavy weight on top of him. He tried to open his eyes, but they were just so heavy, and he was so so tired. So he kept them shut. He tried to move an arm to rub at an itchy nose and found he was restrained by something.

He whined.

“Shhh....” Steve was there. Somewhere. “I’m here. You’re safe. We’re in the tower.”

Tony made a special effort, and cracked open a very confused eye. He was on the bed, swaddled in a blanket. Steve was laying on top of, crushing him ever so expertly into the mattress. It was a comforting weight. It meant he was safe.

He whined again. He wasn’t sure why. Steve gently kissed different parts of Tony’s face, murmuring something about how Tony was “my perfect, good omega.”

He huffed, but allowed Steve to do as he pleased. He didn’t have to be so patronizing. Still... it was nice. He laid there for a bit, and just enjoyed the moment.

Eventually his brain caught up with him.

“Wait... why am I in bed?” he fussed. Tony didn’t remember going to bed. He certainly wouldn’t have swaddled himself like this. You were supposed to swaddle omegas who were in distress. And Tony wasn’t in distress. He was Tony fucking Stark. He hadn’t been in distress since his parents died.

“Shhh... go back to sleep baby,” Steve had moved on to trailing his nose over random bits of Tony’s skin, mainly the bits just under Tony’s right ear.

Tony sighed, and lazily bared his neck to give the alpha better access.

For some reason, Steve seemed really happy about that, and murmured sweet things about Tony as he took complete advantage, and pressed careful kisses to Tony’s scent gland.

He blinked. It was hard to think, swaddled and, well - compressed like this. The tiny nibbles Steve was doing to his neck weren’t helping much either. He felt like he was forgetting something.

“Steve?” he asked.

“Shh... sleep baby. It’s okay,” Steve whispered. “I got you.”

Well. If Steve said so.

He closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep.


	16. We Can Always Find the Trouble, We Don’t Need No Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s lyrical title is from Kesha’s Raising Hell. It’s been a while since we’ve checked in with Steve. Let’s see how the day’s been going so far from his perspective. Spoiler: it’s not been going well. 
> 
> Also this chapter is going to be a SUPER long one. Grab your snacks. I’m not kidding. Get a drink while you’re at it. This thing is 20 pages long in google docs. 
> 
> And as always, this is hot off the presses. I might edit this a bit later.

Steve was in the armory with Bucky doing a long overdue inspection of the weapons there when he noticed the clock on the wall.

He frowned at it, and checked his watch. It was almost 5 pm. Where had the time gone?

“Jarvis, has Tony eaten lunch yet?” the omega always forgot to eat.

“Sir has eaten 3 tacos within the last 20 minutes,” Jarvis said. “As well as several Twizzlers.”

Steve sighed. “Where is he?” he asked. It looked like he was going to have to drag the man to the cafeteria, and get some proper food into him.

“Sir is not currently in the Tower,” Jarvis replied primly.

Even Bucky stilled at that. “What?” Steve said. “Where is he?”

“He is not in the Tower.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. That was exactly the kind of bullshit answer Jarvis gave when Tony was Up to Something. There was never a moment when Jarvis didn’t know EXACTLY where Tony was.

He pulled out his phone, and dialed Tony’s number. Tony answered on the first ring.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was concerned.

“Is Peter okay?” Tony asked hurriedly, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Last I heard he was sleeping- but, Jarvis says you’re not in the Tower?” Steve asked, doing his best to not sound accusing. It was _ possible _ that Tony wasn’t up to some sort of tomfoolery.

Not very possible. But Steve could always hope, right?

“Um...” Tony said. “I’m... I’m at the Sheraton.”

Steve frowned at Tony’s hesitation. He could have sworn he heard the familiar sound of Tony’s suit joints moving in the background. And where the hell was it raining?

“Tony... why does it sound like you’re in your suit?” Again - there was always hope that Steve was wrong.

“I dunno. Maybe the acoustics are weird or something- I heard they do a good brunch-”

Steve double checked the clock. Yeah. Brunch was definitely not happening right now. Tony had lost track of time again. The last straw was the sound of some sort of... explosion? Happening in the background. Steve could feel his heart skip a beat at that.

_ “Tony, where are you?” _he demanded.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked.

“I told you I’m at the Sheraton,” Tony snapped.

Steve covered the phone. “He says he’s at the Sheraton,” he hissed, clearly pissed. “But he’s in his suit-”

Bucky frowned, and snatched a tablet off a nearby table. Steve watched for a moment as he pulled up the lastest SHIELD alerts. Bucky winced, and turned it so that Steve could see the screen.

“Is this the same Sheraton that is being evacuated and has some weird weather thing going on?” Steve demanded, now pissed. Of all the irresponsible, stupid things-

“I have it under control,” Tony said. “It’s fine-”

Another explosion. This time with shouting in the background.

“Tony-” Steve started.

“I have it under control,” Tony hissed. “I’m FINE- Sorry babe, gotta go.”

“Tony!”

Tony hung up.

Steve stared at the phone for a moment, unable to believe what he’d just experienced.

“Stevie?”

“He _ hung up _ on me-” Steve hissed, all but vibrating with outrage.

Bucky growled. “That idiot’s gonna get himself killed, one of these days,” he said, already gearing up.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Steve snapped.

They were two blocks away when his phone beeped that special beep. It was the one he prayed he’d never hear. It meant that Tony was in serious trouble.

Steve went from jogging to sprinting in a second flat. Bucky, as always, just a step behind him.

He didn’t stop for the glass door. He just brought his shield up and busted right through it.

“TONY!?” he bellowed into the lobby, ignoring the weirdness that was rain falling from the ceiling.

“Here!” Tony called back. “Second floor!”

Steve took the steps two at a time. His heart just about fell out of his chest when he saw his omega sitting against a wall, looking like death warmed over. He rushed over.

“Oh my god- Tony-” Steve said, sounding bereft. He started running hands down Tony’s body, looking for injuries.

“What happened?” Bucky demanded.

“There’s a machine on the stage. Stark went to shoot it- but it’s magnetic. I think it ate his suit-” a beta woman started.

“Is just one machine causing all of this?” Steve demanded, still inspecting his omega. He couldn’t find any obvious injuries-

“There’s a second one on top of it. They’re interacting and feeding off each other-” a blonde alpha said. “I turned mine off, but Reed-”

“I didn’t get a chance!” a second alpha protested. “There was a giant ball of death forming! I ran for it!”

Bucky ducked into the doorway to peek.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “How is he Stevie?”

“I’m... I’m not hurt,” Tony said, and shivered. Steve did not like his current color AT ALL. “You have to shut it down-”

“I’m on it-” Bucky said.

“NO!” at least 3 people all shouted at the same time. Startled, Bucky froze. “What?”

“It’s magnetic! It ATE my suit! You think you’re going to get far with that arm of yours?” Tony shouted.

Bucky blinked. “Fair point...” he muttered.

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve said grimly.

Tony reached out and snatched at a strap on Steve’s chest. Steve stilled, and waited.

“Lose the shield,” he said. “And the guns. And the belts. It’s getting bigger. It... it’s feeding off my reactor-” Steve watched in horror as his beautiful, wonderful, _ fragile _omega coughed like he was dying of tuberculosis.

“Tony...” Steve hesitated. He could feel his heart breaking. He needed to get his omega to safety. But that fucking machine...

“It’s... nothing. I’m fine. What are you waiting for? Hurry up and kill it!” Tony shouted, then clutched at his chest and whined in pain.

Steve looked at Bucky.

“Take him home?” he asked silently with an eyebrow lift.

“Fuck that,” Bucky replied with a scowl and a head tilt. “I’m not leaving you.”

Steve showed his unhappiness with pursed lips.

Bucky stared stubbornly back.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Babysit?” he asked with a head tilt towards Tony.

Bucky stared back, but eventually broke. He snorted, but nodded. “Right,” he said, but he didn’t sound happy about it.

Steve let out a small sigh of relief and hastily shucked off the offending items, down to his belt buckle.

Bucky sat down next to Tony and gathered him close. . “Shh... Stevie’s gonna kill it for you, yeah?” he murmured.

“Hit the device on top first-” the blonde alpha was saying. “Susan, please. You need to leave-”

“Not without Reed!” the tiny omega protested.

The strange alphas glared at each other. “What are you waiting for- take her to safety!”

“We’re fine! And I _ need _ to see this- the scientific discovery alone-”

“We stay here,” Bucky said. “Steve- take the baseball bat.”

Steve blinked, and finally noticed what the beta was carrying.

“Good idea,” Steve said, “Ma’am?”

She handed over her bat reluctantly. “Thor gave me that. Don’t break it.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Steve said shortly, and strode into the ballroom.

He paused for a second, taking in the scene before him. On a raised wooden stage, a large ball of... light(?) glowed and pulsed. He watched as a chair climbed the vertical side of the stage, took flight for half a second, and promptly vanished into the ball.

He looked for a machine. The small wooden boxes below it looked promising.

He strode forward, an arm raised to protect his face from the lashing wind and rain. He’d been in worse weather, but not often. And it was definitely a first that it was happening while the roof above him was still intact.

As he got closer, he slowed down a bit and approached the machine warily. The carpet here was scorched and torn- Steve had a grim feeling that this was from Tony’s suit.

He studied it for a moment, examining angles. He wanted to smash it, but didn’t want to get caught with a blast to the face... The ball was further back, but the machine was near the lip of the stage. Maybe if he crouched and swung blindly?

“Tell Steve to smash the damn thing already!” Tony shouted from the hallway, sounding desperate and afraid. Steve didn’t need any further prompting.

Steve knelt and closed his eyes. “Bucky!” he called in warning, and swung the bat.

It was a good thing he’d closed his eyes- the flash that come a second later was blinding, even with his eyes squeezed shut.

Steve waited for the boom. There was always a boom with these damn things.

His patience was rewarded with a concussive wall of force that made his ears pop. If he wasn’t a supersoldier and in the lee of something, his ears would be bleeding probably.

He waited for a secondary blast, just in case. When nothing happened he cautiously opened his eyes. All the chairs had been knocked over, and random bits of what looked like ceiling was on the floor. And the rain and wind had stopped. So that was a plus.

Grimly he got up on stage and wailed on the boxes with the bat until there were just splinters left. If he didn’t some idiot would undoubtedly try to cobble it back together and next time it might take more than a bat to destroy the damn things.

Plus it made him feel better.

“Steve?”

Steve hit it some more, probably harder than he strictly needed to.

“Hey- hey. I think you got it, man.”

Steve looked up, to find Bucky standing at the foot of the stage, looking distressed. “Give me the bat, Stevie,” he said gently. Like he was talking to some deranged person instead of Steve.

Steve took a breath, and after a second, reluctantly handed the bat over.

“Go see your omega, yeah? He’s upset. I’ll take care of this.”

Steve nodded, and took another centering breath. Right. Tony needed him.

When he got to the hallway, Tony was in the middle of a panic attack while the beta tried to minister to an injured alpha. Steve ignored them.

“Tony? Baby?”

Tony didn’t seem to hear him.

“Focus on me, honey. I’ve got you.” Steve said, and head his mate close. “Shhh... breathe with me honey. In and out.” He kept talking and stroking Tony’s hair until he felt the omega start to breathe properly again.

“Steve...” he whined.

Steve pressed kisses to Tony’s forehead and rubbed his scent glands. He still wasn’t as calm as Steve would like.

“STEVE-” the voice was high and stressed.

“I’m here baby- it’s okay.”

Tony swatted weakly at Steve’s chest, and Steve paused, trying to give his omega some space if he needed it.

“Steve- I need-”

“Need what honey? I’m right here-” he murmured.

“My lab. Need my lab-”

Seriously? The lab? Steve held in a frustrated sigh. Why, yes, that had been a rather interesting scientific thing that just happened, but Tony looked like death warmed over. Looking at data or whatever could fucking wait.

“I think you need to go to Medical first, honey-” he tried to be gentle.

_ “Steve-” _Tony protested. “Steve, I have 20 minutes before my reactor fails-” Tony whined.

“It’ll be okay. You have more at the Tower, right?” Steve calmly. Tony was not getting out of going to medical that easily. Judging from his color and demeanor Steve had good money on some sort of bruised ribs at the minimum.

“YES-”

“Well then we’ll go. But Medical first.” Steve’s said firmly. His omega was in shock, that’s all. He couldn’t be blamed for not thinking clearly. He gave Tony a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“Steve-” Tony grabbed his collar and hauled him close “When the reactor stops I start to _ die _ ,” he said urgently into Steve’s ear. “I _ need _to get to my lab-”

Steve froze, and felt his stomach and heart drop right out of him and onto the floor. “What?” He couldn’t have heard that right.

“Get me to my lab, NOW-” Tony hissed.

“Are you serious?” Steve asked, frozen, willing him to be wrong. For this to be a misunderstanding.

“YES! _ Help me! _”

It was his omega’s tone that got through in the end. His mate was possibly dying, and he needed to move- needed to move NOW.

“BUCKY! CODE BLUE!” he shouted. He didn’t even wait for his response. He just gathered Tony up and took off.

Never in his life had he run so fast. He dodged around both people and traffic as he ran- all he could think was that he had to get his omega to safety. He didn’t stop until they reached the private elevator.

“Lab, Jarvis- as fast as possible,” Steve snapped when they reached the private elevator.

“Yes sir,” Jarvis said. The AI sounded strained.

“Shhhh.... It’s okay,” Steve murmured. “I’ve got you.” He desperately want to pace with anxiety but there wasn’t room, and he didn’t want to panic Tony.

He focused on breathing, and making sure he wasn’t crushing Tony with his grip. The last thing he needed right now was to hurt his omega by accident.

Finally, FINALLY, the elevator door opened to reveal Tony’s lab. It was a mess, as usual, and Steve had to step artfully around a few things while he headed for the back wall where the cores were.

“Captain, he needs a new core,” Jarvis said politely.

Jarvis seemed to think he needed some help finding the safe, as it was open and had a spotlight on it. Any other time it would have been funny. Now he was just grateful that Tony had an AI that clearly cared so much for him.

Steve carefully put Tony down so he could sit against the wall while he got a new core out of the safe.

He watched as Tony struggled with his chest, trying and failing to get the cylinder out with shaking fingers. Steve knelt next to him.

“I’ve got it-” Steve said, gently moving Tony’s fingers out of the way to get at it the mechanism himself.

“Careful- don’t-” Tony protested. “You have to-”

“I know,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “Hold still.”

“You have two minutes, Captain,” Jarvis said.

Thankfully Steve’s fingers weren’t shaking. He thanked the serum for that. It took more than just pure adrenaline and fear for his hands to shake. He skillfully popped the core out and replaced it with a new one. He replaced the cylinder and gave it a gentle quarter turn- it spun the rest of the way in.

As soon as he was sure it was in, he held Tony in his arms. Tony, thankfully, didn’t fight it or protest like he usually did, and just went limp against Steve’s chest.

“How- how did you know how to do that?” Tony asked asked eventually, his voice shaking a bit, Steve noticed.

“I practiced,” Steve said simply, and rubbed his nose into Tony’s hair. The omega was a stubborn one and took scent blockers religiously. The closest thing to a scent the man had was his shampoo. It wasn’t flowery or even herbal, but somehow smelled like a meadow after a rain. Steve inhaled it like a dying man going for one last scent of home.

_ They were safe. _

Tony bared his neck, and Steve instantly pressed kisses to his mate’s bond mark, the omega sighing and relaxing under his attention.

They sat for a while on the cold floor. Steve knew it couldn’t be good for Tony’s back but right at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to move long enough to let the omega go.

“You practiced?” Tony asked quietly after a while.

Steve hummed an affirmative.

“On what?” Tony asked, audibly confused.

“On a prototype. I thought it prudent that someone know how to change the cores in case sir was somehow incapaticated,” Jarvis said.

“Remind me to reprogram you later,” Tony said without any heat.

“Of course sir,” Jarvis said, with only the slightest trace of smugness.

Steve took one last inhale. “Okay. Lets go get dry, okay?”

Tony hummed in agreement and wordlessly wound his arms around Steve’s neck. It was a small gesture but it made Steve ridiculously happy. He easily lifted him into his arms and carried him to the elevator.

“You want a shower, sweetheart?” Steve asked as he stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse.

“Hmm. I think I’m gonna get changed and go to bed,” Tony said. “Jarvis? Can you call Bucky and tell him that the crisis was averted?” he asked as Steve set him down on an immaculate white couch.

“Already done sir. The Sergeant has instructed me to tell you that the next time you want to skip out on your SHIELD debriefing you needn’t be so dramatic.”

Both Steve and Tony snorted.

“Tell him that I owe him one,” Steve said, and gave Tony another small forehead kiss.

“Go shower,” Tony said, gently and fondly smacking Steve’s chest. “You smell like bad science.”

Steve rolled his eyes good humoredly but obeyed, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Once he was away from his omega Steve felt every single one of his 90 some-odd years. (He tried not to think about that to hard)

He stripped, tossing his things into the laundry hamper and all but crawled into the shower, and let the blessedly hot water wash over him. He took a breath. He should have insisted on Tony joining him. The ritual of cleaning and caring for him would have been comforting for both of them.

_ Next time. _

Maybe next mission he could talk him into it.

But in the meantime... Tony had totally stepped over the line. He’d managed to get himself in a situation where he could have been_ killed. _

The only reason he was alive right now was because Steve had thought to check up on him.

The thought was bone chilling. If he hadn’t stopped and noticed the time... if he’d assumed that Nat was on top of things, if he hadn’t called- if if if....

He took a moment to get his emotions under control. Right now the only thing he was doing was stinking up the bathroom with alpha hormones.

He washed up, and turned the vent fan on high.

He got dressed and was walking towards the bedroom when he spotted Tony sitting on the couch watching TV. He had wrapped himself up in that hideous blanket that lived on the corner of the couch.

Looking back, Steve should have taken that as a warning sign and backed off.

But Steve was an idiot. And had a history of making stupid choices when it came to people that he loved.

He decided it was time to Talk to Tony.

“Hey-”

Tony blinked, and focused on him.

“Hmmm? Yeah- what?”

“Thought you were going to bed?”

Tony shrugged listlessly.

“Tony-” Steve started. He hated having to have this talk. It always made him feel like some sort of shrewish parent. But you sometimes had to call people out on their dumb ass decisions. Doubly so when those decisions almost killed someone. Triply so when they did things like withhold information about their health. He’d had no idea the reactor was that critical to Tony’s health.

“We need to talk,” Steve said, making sure his tone was gentle, but firm, and not exhausted.

Tony blinked at him. “Okay,” he said flatly.

“About today.”

“I’m sorry-” Tony said, clearly anything but. He winced. Apparently even he heard it.

Steve opened his mouth.

“I know. I know- I’m sorry, I really am,” Tony whined.

But he wasn’t getting off the hook that easily.

“Tony,” Steve said, warningly.

Tony’s mouth snapped shut, thankfully. Maybe he could get through this without Tony butting in every two seconds.

“You cannot just go off like that. You left without telling anyone- you scared me half to death- scared Bucky to. You think I make everyone take backup because I think they’re incompetent? No. I do it because it’s safer to have someone-”

The speech was an old one. The Howlies had grown to hate it before they’d even gotten halfway through France. It had gotten to the point where he didn’t even have to give it anymore. They’d just say “So... I’m getting the speech, Cap?” and he’d glare at them and threaten to make them write essays on “How I Fucked Up” on the back of their toilet paper. (He wouldn’t have made them use good paper. That was to be saved for letters home.) God knows he’d hated having to do that when he was in school.

But he wouldn’t make Tony do that.

He paused. Tony was staring dutifully at a point somewhere on the floor. He frowned.

“Tony- are you listening to me?” God, he _ hated _ it when Tony tuned him out.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, flatly. “I won’t do it again.” He sounded like some sort of scolded child who was just waiting for the parent to finally stop talking so they could leave.

Steve sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. He felt like crap. Tony probably felt worse. They should do this later. Maybe never.

“Tony-” Steve started, fully intending on suggesting they just go to bed.

But Tony didn’t look at him. He frowned, and reached out to grab his chin, and get his omega’s attention-

Tony flinched.

Steve froze. He felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut then dumped into a vat of ice water. Tony... _ had just flinched away from him. _

“Tony?” Steve tried to keep the hurt confusion from his voice and failed utterly.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Tony squeaked, and sat more upright. He wouldn’t look at Steve.

_ Oh god. _Tony was shaking. Was it because of him? Was he going into shock?

“Baby?” Steve asked, as gently as possible, panicking on the inside.

He reached out again and Tony squeezed his eyes shut, and ground his teeth together- clearly bracing for impact.

_ He thinks I’m going to hit him. _

The realization hit him harder than when he’d realized Bucky had fallen from that damn train, and wasn’t going to make it.

No. Nononono.

As gently as possible, he touched Tony.

“Shhh... oh god, Tony- sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he murmured as he gathered Tony in for a hug.

Tony started to whine. It was a broken one that spoke of deep omega distress.

_ And it was his fault. _

He couldn’t have waited until fucking tomorrow. He hadn’t even checked to see if Tony was OKAY before he laid into him.

_ Jesus Christ forgive him. _Because he certainly never was going to forgive himself for this.

He held Tony through the panic attack, waiting for him to calm down, gently stroking his back and hair, scent marking him. Murmuring sweet things in his ear.

He wasn’t prepared for Tony to pass out on him.

He freaked, and started hyperventilating.

Thankfully, Jarvis was there.

“It is recommended that you swaddle omegas in distress,” Jarvis said calmly from the ceiling.

Right. He could do that. And he needed something soft. Not this awful blanket Tony currently had on him. He wrestled it off him, then carried him to bed. He used the duvet cover to wrap his omega up.

And when he couldn’t think of anything else to do- he physically laid on top of him. He had no idea if this would help Tony or not, but it made him feel like he was at least _ doing something. _

He buried his face in Tony’s hair, and waited for his omega to wake up.

Half an hour later, Tony whined with a trace of fear.

“Shhh....” Steve said gently. “I’m here. You’re safe. We’re in the tower.” It was a chant he’d often had to use with Bucky in the Bad Days when he’d first been defrosted and got confused easily.

Tony whined again, but this time instead of sounding upset it sound questioning.

Steve gently kissed different parts of Tony’s face, murmuring how Tony was “my perfect, good omega.”

Tony huffed, but offered no further protests. He let Steve literally smother him with affection for at least another 5 minutes.

“Wait... why am I in bed?” he fussed.

“Shhh... go back to sleep baby,” Steve nuzzled him gently. Tony was in no way coherent right now. It was better for him to sleep.

Tony sighed, and bared his neck without hesitation or fear.

Steve thought his heart would burst with happiness. He hadn’t totally fucked up. Tony wasn’t afraid of him. He pressed careful kisses to Tony’s scent gland, and gently nibbled his neck.

“Steve?” Tony asked. He sounded drugged.

“Shh... sleep baby. It’s okay,” Steve whispered. “I got you.”

Two minutes later Tony was snoring.

He almost cried with relief. _ Tony was going to be okay. _

Time passed. He couldn’t get himself to leave the bed, but after a while he managed to convince himself that laying next Tony was just as good as laying on top of him after his knees and elbows started to protest.

God, he had no idea what he was doing. Did they make books about how to be a good alpha? Bucky had always told him that it would come naturally.

He’d also told him that Steve would “grow out” of his terrible slight frame to. But that hadn’t happened either.

He sighed. He hated that he couldn’t talk about this with Bucky. But he’d been sensitive about even being around omegas ever since they defrosted him from that horrible canister thing they found in the basement of a Hydra base. Steve hadn’t even found him. It’d been the clean up team. The assholes had actually stacked _ boxes _ on top of the canister as if the man was nothing more than an old pile of books.

He inhaled the scent of Tony’s hair. He needed to calm down. Ruminating over past awfulness would only make him stink up the room and cause Tony even more distress.

He didn’t deserve that.

What he deserved was a halfway decent alpha who could fucking take care of him properly.

Honestly, he had no idea why Tony even chose him some days. He could have literally anyone in the world- and yet he’d chosen a stupid roided up alpha with more testosterone than sense.

God knew he couldn’t keep up with him whenever he rambled on about whatever he was working on these days. Nano... Nenu... something. It was small. And apparently the Next Big Thing. He was always so excited when he did it though. Reminded him of a bit of a rambunctious puppy. Always running full tilt and landing face first into whatever new science that caught his attention.

Why hadn’t he gone for someone who was smart?

Steve idly traced the contours of Tony’s face with a gentle finger.

He really didn’t understand this man at all sometimes.

Most of the time.

He was just ruminating on “God, why haven’t I noticed how pronounced Tony’s cheekbones are... have they always been that way? Was he eating enough? Was it possible for a man to lose weight in just the two day since Tony had banned him from the common areas?” when Jarvis carefully and quietly announced, “Captain, Mr. Wilson has arrived.”

Steve blinked. “Sam’s here?” he asked, also quietly, so as not to disturb Tony.

“Yes sir. He’s just arrived in the parking garage.”

“Tell him to put his stuff on the guest floor then meet me here.”

“Of course sir. I’ll let you know when he arrives,” Jarvis whispered.

Steve hummed softly in acknowledgement, and tried to find the strength to leave the bed.

Eventually he managed, and as he left the bedroom he carefully closed the door.

“Let me know if he wakes up, Jarvis,” he asked.

“Of course Captain.”

He sat on the couch and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Sam rolled in just a few minutes later.

“Cap!” Sam said.

Steve hurriedly shushed him. “Tony’s sleeping. Keep it down.”

Sam blinked. “It’s almost dinner time man. What’s going on?” he asked, but softly this time.

Steve motioned at the couch. “Sit. We need to talk.”

Sam frowned, but obeyed.

Steve sighed, and warily rubbed his face. “It’s all gone to shit Sam. I just... these last two days have been literal hell.”

“What happened?” Sam asked softly, clearly concerned.

Steve gave Sam a long look. “I know I said that we didn’t need you. That we could manage. And you chose to go and work in DC. I don’t blame you for that. Your family is there. I understand.”

Sam frowned. “I feel a but coming.”

Steve nodded. “The pack needs you. _ I _ need you. Here. In New York.”

Sam considered. “You still haven’t told me what’s wrong.”

Steve rubbed his face again, hesitating. “You’ve been out of the pack for a while Sam,” he said neutrally.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can’t tell you unless you give me a firm yes or a no here. Either you’re here, with us in New York, and you know all the ins and outs, or you’re not, and you do some blind grunt work for me before you go back to DC and we’ll call you when the world’s on fire.”

Sam blinked. “There’s secrets now? Since when?” he demanded.

Steve gave him a long look. “Since always.”

“Steve-”

“Look, I’m not asking you to put on the wings and go out with us on missions all the time. I need someone who can stay home, keep an eye on things. Someone I can trust and who won’t automatically side with me on things.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to give him a long look. “You want me to be a house alpha now?” he demanded with a disbelieving smirk.

Steve blinked, and choked back a laugh. “Yeah. Something like that,” he said with a small smile. His face turned serious quickly. “But I’m serious. I need you here. To help me guard the Nest.”

Sam’s smile vanished. That was a serious request, to guard a nest. He sighed.

“I always said that if you needed me, I’d answer,” Sam said finally. “I’m in.”

Steve graced him with a relieved smile. “Thank you Sam,” he said.

“Now tell me what ridiculous situation you’ve gotten yourself into now,” Sam demanded.

Steve’s smile turned brittle. “What do you know about male omegas?” he asked.


	17. I Won’t Let You Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s title is from Ok Go. 
> 
> Let’s see if Sam can be a little more efficient/effective in getting help for Peter. 
> 
> Disclaimer: everything medical related is coming from either youtube nursing tutorials or extensive googling. I’m probably wrong. A lot. 
> 
> Again, this is hot off the presses. Editing? She don’t go here.

Sam stared at the wall in the elevator. 4 hours ago his biggest problem had been what he was going to have for dinner. And now he needed to regroup the freakin’ Avengers.

He still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the fact that “hey male omegas exist, and we have two on the team. And both are out of commission right now, and one of them may possibly be very slowly dying, but who knows, there was a weather thing. And hey, both Bucky and I are banned from Medbay. And the common areas. And no I don’t know where anyone’s at...”

_ Sweet Baby Jesus. _You leave a pack for a year, and everything just freaking falls apart, and your pack leader gets mated before losing his goddamn mind.

He stepped out onto the MedBay when the elevator doors opened. There was no frantic activity. No yelling. Just people in white lab coats doing paperwork at their desks or quietly chatting to each other. So that was a good sign.

He poked his head into random rooms until he found one with a mostly naked boy in a bed.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. _ Heat, sick, wrong, hurt_. It had a weird almost metallic after taste to it. And the heat scent was just... weird. Sam had been with several omegas in his time, and they all smelled, well... sweet during their heats. But this... this was like being waterboarded with burnt icing. It was _ sickly. _

Whatever the hell was wrong with the kid was so far out of his wheelhouse he might as well try to diagnose a lollipop dude from the Wizard of Oz.

Next to him was an omega woman sitting in a chair, knitting. His mind skidded a bit when he took in her vintage red and white dress. And her hair. She looked like some chick from one of Steve’s old recruitment posters.

_ What the fuck even is this day? _

“Hey-” he said.

She looked up at him and frowned. “You’re not a doctor,” she said flatly, with a hint of challenge. She put her knitting down.

“No,” he said, and stepped inside. She quickly stood up, and moved to put herself in between the boy and himself. She looked wary, and her fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress.

He threw his hands up to show he had no ill intentions. Thank god for scent blockers. She was... attractive. And it’d been a while. The last thing he needed was to freak out an omega because his dumbass was unable to control his stupid alpha hormones just because she looked like she’d climbed out of a freaking pin-up poster.

His mother would say that the Lord was testing him.

_ Why Lord? Why? _

“Sorry ma’am. Don’t mean to freak you out. I’m Sam Wilson. Steve sent me down to check on things,” at least he could keep his tone professional.

She hesitated, but didn’t move. “Jarvis?” she asked.

“Mr. Wilson is a member of the Avengers,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

She studied him for a minute, then nodded and relaxed a little. “Sorry man. I’m under orders from Natasha to watch him,” she said. “And it’s been a crazy day.”

“So Nat called you in?”

She nodded. “Apparently all the doctors are stupid today. I’m to keep people from giving him things,” she said, sitting back down.

He frowned. “So, you have experience with...” he trailed off. She didn’t look like she had military training. But if Nat had called her in...

“Experience?”

“You special forces, or-”

She blinked, and giggled. “Fuck no man! I specialize in making sure crazy scientists have their doohickies charged and a steady supply of pop tarts.” she paused. “I’m Darcy by the way.”

He stared at her. “Pop tarts?” he said, doing his best to keep his eyebrows firmly in place.

She nodded. “Keeping the pop tarts stocked is like 40% of my job, honestly,” she said.

The funny thing was, he couldn’t tell if she was fucking with him or not. _ But Nat had called her in. _ He decided to tread carefully anyway in case she had a side hobby of knitting with people’s intestines or something. (Nat always knew the craziest fucking people...)

“Hey- do you know if Tony fixed that thing at the Sheraton?”

He frowned. “Sheraton?”

“There was like... a machine that ripped a hole in space or something and made it rain indoors. He was going to go shoot it...” she looked worried. “I haven’t heard from my friend Jane for a while, and she was there-”

_ Ah. _

“Steve took care of it,” he said, not sure what he could tell her. “No one was seriously hurt.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well that’s a relief. I swear I’m gone for not even an hour and she’s ripping holes in space time or whatever without me,” she complained. “That’s just typical that’s what it is,” she bitched. “I never get to go to freaking other space times. Last time she went to Asgard and I got stuck chasing a half naked old dude around London. I mean, I’m not really complaining. Selvig didn’t belong in that insane asylum- but seriously. I missed like _ elves _.”

Sam decided that he would ignore pretty much all of that for now and take this woman out for drinks later. Maybe they could swap “My boss is crazy” stories.

“How’s he been?” he asked, gesturing at Peter.

She screwed up her face into one of exaggerated frustration and tsked.

“I mean... he’s not like... getting worse I don’t think,” she said hesitantly. “But he’s not getting better either. And the ice is melting, but I don’t know if I’m like... doctor enough to replace it? Or if I should take it off? I mean, his temp has stayed the same. But it’s high. Even I know that.”

“Do you know what happened?” he asked, as he examined the various monitors. He wasn’t happy with the blood pressure reading. Or the pulse. The O2 saturation looked good at least. And the temperature of 103.1 wasn’t the best. But it wasn’t high enough to be cooking the kid’s brain. So that was good.

“No idea,” she said.

“How long has the ice been on?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Since I got here?” she offered meekly. “But that was hours ago.”

Sam winced. Ice shouldn’t be on that long. There was risk of frostbite.

“Help me take it off,” he said.

Darcy frowned. “We’re not supposed to do anything,” she protested, clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m a sort of Paramedic. I can’t cure him, but I can tell you it needs to come off,” he said firmly.

She sighed with relief. “That’s what I thought too, but no-one said anything-” she said. “And the doctors and nurses are all steering clear. I think Nat chewed some of them out,” she confided.

Sam frowned. Well that was just unacceptable. It looked like once everything wasn’t on fire, he’d have to have a serious look at the MedBay staff. You can’t just neglect a patient because one of their relatives was scary. It was freaking unethical for just starters.

They took the ice off, and Sam checked the boy’s skin for frostbite. The skin was super cold and pale where the ice had been, but nothing was black.

_ Yet. _

He’d have a serious talk with whoever the hell put him on ice. That wasn’t the current accepted treatment for high fevers. Hadn’t been for at least a few years, he knew for damn sure. You were supposed to mist them with water and put a shit load of fans on them. It did just a good a job as ice, but without the risk of frostbite.

They put the bags into a corner, and emptied one into the tiny hand washing sink.

“Has he woken up at all?” he asked, as he grabbed the boy’s chart off the wall. He took note of the kid’s doctor’s name: Dr. Connors. Oooh... he was going to have some _ words _ with him.

“Nope. If he had I would have sounded an alarm of some sort.”

Sam hummed as he went over the papers. Saline. Liquid emergency suppressants... seemed standard “sick omega” treatment so far... Or at least, it sounded right. He didn’t have much training for omegas. There was a record of a head injury. The kid had ... fallen off a ceiling? But the x-rays said nothing was broken... His eyebrows rose to his hairline when he read about the kid’s heart stopping.

He quickly flipped through the pages.

_ They hadn’t put him on any additional heart medications since. _

** _WTF. _ **

He put the file back, and went to Peter’s bedside. He wasn’t just going to have words, he was going to kick someone’s fucking ass right out the god damn window over this. Now he didn’t trust a goddamn word of this fucking chart.

If you wanted something done right, you have to do it yourself.

“Hey Peter,” Sam said loudly and clearly, leaning over the boy’s head. “Can you hear me bud?”

No response. He shook him a little.

“Peter?” still no response.

He dug his key chain penlight out of his pocket, and used it to check the boy’s pupils. They reacted. That was good.

“Peter buddy, you awake?”

He pressed the pen light to one of the boy’s fingernails, hard. The kid weakly tried to move his hand away and groaned. His eyes fluttered, but stayed closed. The pulse rate on the monitor jumped.

“Is he waking up?” Darcy demanded, breathless.

Sam waved her back. “Not fully. But this - this is good.”

He took the boy’s hand. “Can you squeeze my hand, bud? I want you to squeeze it as hard you can.”

After a moment... was it his imagination or did the kid’s fingers move a bit?

“You’re in the MedBay, buddy. You had a bit of a fall, and you have a fever. You’re safe. Are you in any pain?”

There was a whine. It was barely there, but it was there.

“Ohmygod-” Darcy babbled.

Sam waved a hand to shush her.

“Can you tell me where you hurt?”

Nothing.

“Does your head hurt? You had a pretty nasty fall.”

Another whine.

“Good job. Thank you for letting me know. I’m gonna try to get you something for that, okay? You hurt anywhere else?”

No response.

“Are you tired? You wanna sleep?”

A hand flutter.

“It’s okay if you’re tired, bud. You go back to sleep, okay? Darcy here is going to stay with you, and keep you company, yeah?” Sam kept his voice calm, clear and firm. “But you’re safe here. I promise you.”

He waited. No response. After a moment of thought, he added, “Everyone else is home and safe, buddy. It’s okay. We’re gonna take good care of you, yeah? If you understand, can you squeeze my hand again? I want you to squeeze as _ hard _ as you can. Can you do that bud?”

Another flutter of movement. A bit stronger this time.

“Good job! That was great Peter. You’re doing so well! You wanna go back to sleep and rest, buddy?”

No response.

He gently but firmly patted the kid’s shoulder so the kid could feel it. “I’m gonna go. You sleep, okay? Like I said, Darcy’s gonna sit with you, okay?” Reassurance was the important part. That and sounding like you knew exactly what you were doing. If you freaked, the patient would freak, and freaked patients did not do as well as calm ones. And no one liked being alone.

He turned to a freaked out Darcy. “So. He can hear us. I can’t say he’ll remember what we’re saying, but keep that in mind, yeah? Don’t say anything to him you don’t want repeated later.”

She blinked. “I... I’ve not been talking to him,” she admitted, sounding alarmed. “Should I have?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’d recommend you put on a podcast about something nice. Like vacation destinations or something. It’ll make him feel less alone. That or music.”

She hastily dug in her bag and produced an ipod and a bluetooth speaker. “Would rock music be okay?”

“I’d stick with something soothing.”

“I’ve got like, rain sounds, I think?”

“That’d be great.”

“What was your name again?” Darcy asked, sounding excited and relieved as she scrambled for her phone. “I’m gonna text Natasha. This has been the best thing that’s happened all freaking day- she’s gonna flip-”

“It’s Sam,” he said, smiling, holding himself back from preening a bit. He always loved it when he could give good news. “And tell her to call me. I don’t think I have her current number.”

“Sure,” Darcy said, furiously texting.

“Stay with him, okay?”

She looked up, and beamed a sunrise smile at him. “No problem,” she said, before going back to texting.

“I’ll check in on him an hour or so,” he said, putting a reminder on his phone.

She didn’t even look up as he left the room.

He grabbed the first person in scrubs he saw. “Hey- I’m looking for Doctor Connors,” he said.

The beta nurse paused in thought. “You know, I haven’t seen him for a while. Sheryl?” she called out over the MedBay.

“Yeah?” another nurse answered her from desk. She was doing paperwork.

“Have you seen Doc Connors?”

“I haven’t seen him in a few hours. Jarvis?” Sheryl asked.

“Doctor Connors has left the Tower,” Jarvis reported primly.

The nurses frowned.

“Did he say when he was going to be back?” the first nurse asked.

“No,” Jarvis said.

“That’s... weird. Umm...” she turned to Sam, “Was there anything specific you needed?”

“I’m Sam Wilson. I just checked in with Peter and he’s in a bit of pain-”

“We’re not supposed to give him anything,” she responded quickly.

“Not even tylenol?”

She shook her head. “Not without Doctor Connors' express written permission.”

Right. The doctor who wasn’t here.

“Who’s next in line?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Who’s in charge when he’s not here?”

“Doctor Shaftner just left for dinner. He should be back in a half hour or so,” Sheryl said. “I’m sorry- we really can’t give him anything. I think he has allergies or something?” she said haltingly. “We’re not really cleared to know.”

Sam sighed. “Right. Thank you.”

He would read them the riot act over the ice later. Right now he might throw something. He set another alarm on his phone for half an hour.

Next step. Regrouping. “Jarvis, where’s Clint?” he asked, as he walked to the elevator.

“Clint has just arrived at the Tower.”

“Tell him to go to the common floor and wait for me,” he said. “Is Bruce in his labs?”

“Dr. Banner is currently in Lab 4.”

“Take me to the lab,” he said, then paused as he had a thought. “Has Bruce eaten yet?”

“Dr. Banner ate breakfast this morning,” Jarvis said.

“Cancel the lab. Take me to the cafeteria,” Sam said.

“Yes sir.”

Sam fiddled with his phone, checking his texts. No Natasha yet.

10 minutes later, Sam knocked on Bruce’s lab door, arms laden with a double portion of whatever today’s vegetarian option had been. It was tofu something, and smelled good. Hopefully he’d like it.

“Come in!” Bruce called politely. He sounded stressed.

Sam opened the door, and walked in. “Bruce!” he called.

Bruce looked up from his computer screen and did a double take. “Sam!” he said happily. “What are you doing here?”

Sam grinned, “Feeding my favorite scientist,” he said cheekily, and happily gave the beta a big hug complete with back slaps.

“Is that butter masala?” Bruce asked hopefully.

“I think so. It’s today's vegetarian option from the cafeteria,” he said, and handed over his prize to Bruce, who popped the clear plastic lid off the to-go dish and happily inhaled it’s scent.

“Sam, you are an angel from heaven,” he said. “I’ve just been so busy... what time is it?”

“It’s a little past 6. Way past lunchtime,” Sam said, his voice reproachful. “Don’t you have like, interns to remind you to eat?”

Bruce winced. “I had to move them to other labs. This-” he waved a hand at the computer monitor, “is too sensitive.”

“Is it Peter’s?”

Bruce nodded. “I’m running blood work, and a DNA comparison-” he said, taking his glasses off and rubbing his face, “as well as about a dozen different tests for possible poisons...”

“You think he was given something?”

Bruce shrugged. “I’m just trying to cover the bases,” he said neutrally.

“Have you talked to Doctor Connors? Peter’s chart didn’t really say anything about why he’s out of it.”

Bruce shook his head, and dug a fork out of a desk drawer. “No. But second heats are, from what I’ve been told- just this side of hell. Right now, his reproductive system is gearing up fully for the first time. Add in Peter’s... superness-” Bruce waved a hand vaguely, “And you have a recipe for a super bad time.”

Sam frowned. “So what’s the panic about? Steve made it out like it was some big serious thing-”

“He’s early. And he was on suppressants. He should be late, not early,” Banner said, frowning. “Also the alphas around him were acting weird. They tried to break down the door to his heat room. So, _ something _ happened. Plus he should have been coherent a long time ago with all the suppressants he’s been given. But he’s not.”

Sam nodded. “So, definitely something funky going on.”

Bruce nodded. “We just need to find out _ what_.”

“Any luck?”

Bruce shook his head. “As far as I can tell, the only things he had in his system were his suppressants and a trace amount of caffeine.”

“Caffeine?”

“I’m guessing he had a soda for lunch.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ll let you get back to work. Let me know if you find anything. Steve’s taking care of Tony and last I heard, Bucky was stuck in a debriefing for SHIELD.”

Bruce frowned. “Did something happen to Tony?”

“There was some sort of funky machine at the Sheraton. He went to bust it up, and it messed with his reactor thing a bit or something.”

Bruce paled. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Just needed a new... ah...” he thought for a moment, searching for the word. “Core? I think it was.”

Bruce relaxed. “I’ll have to check on him later.”

“Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, eat man. I don’t want you starving on me,” Sam teased.

Bruce snorted. “Thanks Sam,” he said wryly and started digging in as Sam walked out.

Sam checked his phone in the elevator. Still no Natasha. “Where’s Nat at, Jarvis?”

“Ms. Romanov is in her quarters.”

“Tell her to meet me at the common floor,” he said.

“Of course, Mr. Wilson.”

“Thanks Jarvis,” he said absently. He stepped out into the common floor when the doors opened.

Clint was sitting on a stool, with his feet propped up on the kitchen island, eating ice cream straight out of the tub with a spoon.

“I see some things never change,” he quipped.

Clint twisted to look behind him, and nearly fell off his stool. “SAM?”

“Hey man, don’t hurt yourself,” Sam chided, laughing.

“Holy shit! It’s been forever- what the hell are you doing here?” Clint managed to right himself.

“Steve called me in. Apparently you’ve got omegas dropping like flies around here. I’m an extra set of hands.”

Clint frowned, suddenly serious. “Did something happen to Nat?” he demanded.

“No. Tony. Something to do with his reactor. Threw him for a loop. He should be fine, but Steve’s gone full mother hen and won’t leave him.”

Clint sighed, shaking his head. “This fucking day, man.”

“So what have you been up to?”

“Officially? Or...”

“Steve’s letting me have the reigns for now. Bucky’s held up in some sort of debriefing. So. Yes. Everything.”

Clint grunted. “Went to the kid’s school. Found one of his guidance counselors. Had to take him for a little ride to get any info out of him. _ Bastard_.”

“And?”

“He and a couple of security guards cornered Peter in an office and read him the riot act. Apparently, they thought he was in a gang or something? When they went to search his locker for drugs, apparently the kid lost it, and ran off to the omega room. They were trying to get him out when we rode up to get him.”

Sam wrinkled his nose, remembering the slight child in the MedBay. “That kid... in a gang?”

“I know! I know you don’t know him Sam- he came in after you left, but he’s legit like the sweetest fucking thing. He once said ‘sugar’ like a swear word after he took a fall in combat training with Nat. Can you believe that? And those assholes treated him like shit.” Clint aggressively stabbed his ice cream.

“Why did they think he was in a gang?”

“Apparently the guards said he_ smelled weird_,” Clint bitched, rolling his eyes. “Like that means _ anything_.”

Sam eyed him. “Did you leave him one piece?”

“Who?”

“The asshole.”

“I _ barely _broke his arm,” Clint grumbled. “Dude will be fine.” He didn’t sound very happy about it though.

Sam held in a sigh of relief. At least he was alive. Clint had a temper when it came to people hurting kids. Not that he’d ever admit it, the big softie. Speaking of people who should be worried about the kid...

“Come to think of it, doesn’t the kid have like, parents or something?” Sam said, suddenly worried.

Clint shook his head. “He’s got an aunt.”

“And?”

Clint shrugged. “I was tasked with the school, man. I dunno.”

“Mr. Hogan has called and let me know that he is on his way with Mrs. Parker,” Jarvis suddenly volunteered. “They will be arriving shortly.”

“Anyone else coming down, Jarvis?”

“Ms. Potts touched down at the airport 10 minutes ago. She is also on her way.”

Sam nodded. He’d only met her a couple of times, but she was a beta who had her shit together.

“Is this an exclusive party?”

Sam turned. “I’m sorry ma’am, but this is for Avengers only-” he said, barely keeping a straight face. “I’m gonna have to see some ID-”

Natasha snorted, “You’re never going to let that go, will you?” she grumbled.

Clint raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“I asked him for some ID when Steve brought him in,” she told him testily. “Rogers may be Captain America, but even I know better than to trust some guy he just met at a VA.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m _ black_, Nat. If I were any more _ not _ a Nazi I’d have to be Jewish.”

“Barnes is Jewish,” she shot back mulishly.

“Good for him,” Sam said good humoredly. “I trust you’ve got something you can report to me on about the kid?” he said, switching gears.

Nat, ever a professional, was quick to keep up. She sat at the island, and sighed. “I got a babysitter for the kid, and I’ve spent the last-” she glanced at a clock, “hour or so being laughed off the phone by every omegatrician in the state of New York, and half of Jersey.”

“What did you ask?”

“If they knew anything at all about male omegas. Most of them said that they didn’t exist. A few said that they’d seen a few stillbirths- apparently being a male omega is considered to be a birth defect that’s quote- 'incompatible with life’.”

Clint pulled a face. “What the hell does that mean?”

She shrugged. “Something about heart problems. They all talked about the same articles at me, that are all too old and in specialized medical journals to be on the internet. I did track down some copies of them, but they’re in England in the ‘Royal Library.’ We’d have to fly there and make an appointment to even look at them.”

“Royal Library?” Sam asked.

“The very short version is they think that most of the queens had so many miscarriages is because they kept getting pregnant with male omegas, due to inbreeding problems.”

“Ohhh... Tony is going to _ love _ that,” Clint sniggered after a beat of stunned silence.

“I know. He’s either going to be offended by the inbreeding thing or he’s going to claim that it’s proof that he’s some form of royalty,” Natasha said, clearly not looking forward to either option.

Sam hummed thoughtfully.

“Jarvis, does Tony have some file on male omegas somewhere?” he asked, because why the hell not.

“No, he does not,” Jarvis said. “Sir has always been... sensitive about that subject.”

Clint sighed. “I’m so fucking glad I’m a beta,” he muttered.

“Shut up man and give me some of that,” Sam barked. This was too much bullshit to deal with without some ice cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the awkward ending. It was either cut it there or have a “Never Ending Chapter”. 
> 
> On a side note, I chose Doctor Connor's name randomly. It literally did not occur to me until this chapter that “Doc Connors” is the name of the lizard doctor dude from Spider-Man. I was just... “I need a name for Peter’s doctor... Connor sounds like a good doctor name!” I’m blaming some sort of subconscious thing for that.
> 
> EDIT 2: I have accepted fate and changed it to Connors. It was too much of a coincidence to ignore.


	18. It’s an Old School Dinosaur Laser Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s lyric is from Ninja Sex Party’s ‘Dinosaur Laser Fight”. I feel the song perfectly encapsulates the utter ridiculousness of the typical Avenger after action report. You might as well take the song lyrics and copy and paste them into Tony’s paperwork- you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway. 
> 
> Let’s check in with Bucky. See how his day’s going.
> 
> Editing? I think she's in Canada.

Bucky sprawled in a soggy swivel chair. It was unpleasant, but not unbearable since he was generally soaked anyway. His feet occupied another adjacent chair, but not the table. He’d been parked in a generally ruined conference room somewhere on the third floor of the hotel for “debriefing” by some grunt in a suit, so that he could wait for probably Coulson.

He hoped Coulson was having just as much of a shitty day as Barnes was having. Otherwise there was no justice in the world.

The reason for his attempt at manners was a small brown haired beta woman who was perched on her own soaked chair. Unlike the other two alphas and the omega on the scene, she didn’t make a run for it the moment the grunts in cheap suits showed up. He wasn’t sure if that was because she seemed to be generally unimpressed with them or if she had some underlying fault in her brain.

Not that Bucky could judge her for that. He knew all too well that sometimes brain glitches meant lapses in common sense. His biggest brain glitch was not present at the moment, since Steve had ran like his ass was on fire back to the tower with Tony. It left him feeling a bit... adrift. Steve was a bit of his own personal North Star Oceanliner. One of those big ones with like a swimming pool and several casinos on it. Some days it was nice. Other days it felt like he was being dragged behind it via the anchor line.

Today... today had started on the sundeck, but sometime around noon he had started wishing for a pair of skis. Or at least a snorkel. (He wouldn’t sneeze at a life vest either, but he knew he’d never get one of those... dog paddle or die seemed to sum up quite a lot of his life).

He eyed the door. Maybe... well... what would be the worst that would happen if he just, you know... walked out?

There wasn’t a law that said he had to debrief SHIELD. It was more of a sort of understood, unspoken courtesy really. But SHIELD was a bit on the Avenger’s shit list right now. Unofficially. Very Unofficially. So unofficially they weren’t supposed to know they were on a shit list to begin with.

And Steve was busy with Tony right now. Right about now he was probably in full mother hen mode. Probably literally smothering the poor bastard. So he probably wouldn’t notice or care if Bucky played hooky.

He checked his phone. The all clear for the ‘code blue’ (that had scared him half to death to be honest) had come in ages ago. He considered. Maybe if he called in another half hour or so he would manage to cockblock the Idiots. Tell them about how his socks were starting to grow mold or something.

It would serve Steve right for... Well. Many times.

He couldn’t think of a specific instance at this moment worthy of a cockblock, but Bucky was sure that on a cosmic scale, Steve had at least one cockblock coming to him for something Bucky had forgotten about.

He had, after all, forgotten a lot of things. And Steve, as a rule, was a little shit.

The beta woman sighed, clearly bored. Bucky’s eyes skidded over to her, then back to a nearby wall. The thought of trying to talk to her... nope. Not happening.

Jesus, he was worse with dames now than Steve had been before the freakin’ army.

Which was all the more reason for him to bug the fuck out.

He was just about to go for it- he’d put his feet down and was starting to shift in his chair- when the door opened, and another brunette woman in a suit came in. She was an omega. Her faint scent of ever-so-slightly-over-ripe peaches made his nose itch and irritated him beyond reason. Omegas always smelled like some sort variation of fruit, and the peach ones just... pushed some secret button in him that made him irrationally angry. Like nails on the chalkboard of his soul.

Steve thought it had something to do with Hydra. Maybe some scientist or past handler had made him associate peaches with Bad Things.

Bucky couldn’t argue with that reasoning, but swore it was wrong anyway. Plus he could eat them just fine. He liked peaches, damnit. Just, apparently, not Peach Omegas.

She smiled at the beta woman first. “Good afternoon, Dr. Foster. I’m Meg Masters. Thank you for your time,” she said, and extended a hand.

“Pleasure,” the beta said sarcastically, and shook it.

“Mr. Barnes?” Masters said. She did not offer her hand to him, he noticed. (Not that he would have shaken it anyway.) And she was playing dumb about his name. She was SHIELD. And he was in a goddamn tact vest with something like 20 knives on him currently, and his favorite rifle leaning against the table next to him. Plus the whole Avenger thing. People wore shirts with his fucking face on it. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Call me Sergeant,” he said gruffly, because he could and it was technically his rank.

She smiled. It was condescending as fuck. “Of course, Sergeant Barnes.”

Where the fuck was Coulson? He normally did their debriefs...

She pulled out a phone and placed it on the table. “I’m going to record this and transcribe it later, okay?” Her smile stayed condescending. “Dr. Foster? Would you care to start?”

“Start where?”

“Wherever you think is the beginning of this incident.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair and half listened as Foster rattled on about the alphas and a competition. He kept his eyes on Masters, who was keeping her eyes on Foster. Ignoring him, _ again. _

It annoyed him for a full 5 minutes before he could verbalize why. He was the second ranking alpha of the most powerful pack on the planet. Coulson always asked for Steve’s report first then his before moving on to Tony (who by then was _ so done _ and usually gave a damn near gibberish account).

And she’d just asked a fucking beta for her report before his... Masters had to be doing it on purpose.

That or she was just incompetent. But, she was an omega. Omegas knew far better than betas how rankings went. Betas had to have it explained. Omegas tended to just automatically fall into line.

It was probably why Foster hadn’t tried to defer to him. If she’d been an omega she’d would have glanced at him for his approval before starting.

At least, that’s how it would have worked in the old days.

A sudden smack of doubt hit him. Oh god. Was this a future thing? He hoped not. Steve- no. _ Tony _ would have definitely mentioned something about this if it was a future thing. The little omega always loved to call him on shit. And he would have been all over him to tell him that people put betas first now. So probably not a future thing.

In fact, the longer he watched, the more he became convinced it was Masters thing.

He tuned back into Foster just in time to hear her say, “And then I called my friend Darcy to see if she was okay, because she was with me at the event, but she was out of the building by then. Anyway, she talked to Tony. And then Tony came and tried to shoot it, but then it ate his suit-”

“I’m sorry. It ate his suit?”

“Yes. It was magnetic.”

“A giant ball of light. That was magnetic. And it ate someone’s suit.” Masters’ tone implied that she didn’t believe a word of it, but was too polite to call her on it.

“You should ask him-” Foster said, pointing at Bucky. “He was there.”

Bucky shrugged. “I came later. The suit was already gone by then,” he said.

A thought occurred to him. What the hell clearance level did Foster have? Or Masters? It should say on her badge... which was on a lanyard that was hanging around her neck. He couldn’t stare at it and read the fucking tiny type on it without looking like he was staring at her breasts. Wonderful.

“So where is Tony now?” Masters asked. “I don’t see him on my list...”

“He left. Rogers took him,” Foster said. “I think he was hurt.”

“Do you know his last name?” The Idiot Woman asked. “I’ll try to run him down later.”

Fosters joined the “are you an idiot?” club. “You mean... Tony Stark?” she asked, in disbelief.

Masters frowned, and looked up from her paperwork. “I’m sorry?”

“I called Darcy. She talked to Iron Man. He came to blow it up, but-”

“And you... just happen to know someone who knows Iron Man?” Masters asked, clearly ready to call her out on her BS.

“I’m dating Thor. So yes,” Foster said, now with definite attitude.

Bucky turned wide eyes on her. _Jesus Christ_. SHE was the one dating Thor? And he’d been giving her the fucking cold shoulder this entire god damned time? Thor was going to fucking skin him alive...

Why the hell did no one lead with the important information these days?

“So... Rogers?” Masters asked faintly.

“Captain America,” Foster said, sounding like she was talking to a dense idiot. “He took him home. I told you, I think he was-”

“Wait. Stop,” Bucky held up a hand to silence the beta. “What’s your clearance level again?” he demanded of Masters.

She blinked at him, and frowned. “It doesn’t matter what my clearance level is,” she said disdainfully. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about myself right now.”

Bucky blinked at her. “What?”

“That gun,” she said, and looked at it meaningfully. “You’d better have the proper paperwork for that. I know that vigilantes are fashionable these days, but you can’t just go running around New York with military hardware!”

He blinked. Did he miss the memo where they passed out the stupid pills or something this morning?

He stood. “Lady,” he drawled. “I’m the second in command of the god damned Avengers,” he said, and leaned intimidatingly at her. “Go fuck yourself. We’re done here.”

Masters stared at him, open mouthed.

Bucky turned to Foster. “Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he said gruffly. He sure as shit wasn’t letting her out of his sight until she was somewhere safe. The way this day was going he’d turn his back and she’d be kidnapped by mole people or something. And then Thor would roast him with lighting before he skinned him.

Fosters sighed, clearly frustrated. “I was staying here-” she waved vaguely at the building around her.

Yeah. Not happening. “Congratulations. You’ve just been upgraded to a room at the Tower. Get your stuff. We’re going.”

He grabbed his gun, slung it over his shoulder and started to walk out of the room.

“Wait a minute! You can’t just _ leave _-” Masters complained.

He flipped her the bird with his metal hand and (gently) grabbed Foster with the other. After a small initial pull to get her going, he put his hand on the small of her back to make sure she was matching his speed as he did a pissed speed walk out of there.

Fosters squawked a bit, protesting her treatment. “I’d rather not have to cause a scene, doll,” he muttered into her hair. She sure was a tiny thing, Thor’s girl. “Keep up. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“Right,” she said, but she didn’t sound happy about it. She had to take at least two steps for every one of his, he noticed. He slowed, but not by much, and squared his shoulders. Right. He knew where was going. He was important. He was armed.

No one stopped them. A grunt manning the barricade line looked questioningly at them, but Bucky death glared him into silence, and didn’t even break stride.

“MOVE!” he barked into the crowd that had collected around the barricade. He put a bit of his alpha command into it. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, and he power walked through, all but dragging the beta behind him now.

He didn’t slow until they’d turned the corner, where he stopped. Dimly, he felt her bounce off his back.

“Sorry,” he said. “You alright?”

She seemed to be out of breath. “I... I will be,” she said, and shivered.

Aw fuckin’ hell. She was human. Like, full normal human. In wet clothes. And the air was a bit chilly today. And he didn’t even have a jacket to offer her. (He had a tact vest, but he didn’t think it would help.)

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you in the warm and some new clothes.” He started off again, but at around half of his previous speed. She still had to scramble a bit to keep up with him, but it wasn’t as bad as before.

“Can I take a shower?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Oh, thank god,” she said.

He hustled her to the Tower, which clearly exhausted her. He got them in the elevator. “Building, guest floor.”

Jarvis didn’t answer right away. “Building?”

“Who are you talking to?” Foster asked.

“He’s the computer that controls the Tower,” Bucky said frowning. “He should be responding-”

“Ms. Romanov has requested that Dr. Foster stay with her on her floor,” Jarvis said, and the elevator started to move.

“Natasha knows I’m here?” Foster asked.

“Ms. Romanov requested to be notified when you arrived,” Jarvis said calmly.

Jesus. Nat was just scary telepathic sometimes.

Foster gave a sigh of relief. “Well, at least something is going right today,” she grumbled.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Natasha leaned back in her chair and waved them in from her tiny kitchen area. She was on the phone. “Uh uh,” she said, a corded landline headset jammed between her shoulder and her ear. “It’s a birth defect?”

“Um... thanks for the rescue I guess?” Foster said, offering a hesitant smile.

“No problem,” he said as she walked out of the elevator.

God, he couldn’t wait for his shower. “My floor, Building,” he said.

“Of course sir.”

On second thought, fuck the shower. He was going to take a fucking bath. Use one of those bath bombs Stark had bought him once as a joke. Put some conditioner in his hair... as a matter of fact, this was the perfect time to break out that new avocado stuff that was supposed to make your hair extra soft and shiny.

It was official. He was taking the rest of the day off.

“Building, if anyone asks, I’m not in,” he said gruffly.

“Of course Sergeant,” Jarvis said.

20 minutes later he was smoking a cigar and watching some sort of nature documentary on pandas with David Attenborough talking over it on the TV built into the wall. He had that new avocado shit in his hair, the Jacuzzi jets on full, and his bath water was a very interesting shade of purple.

The future was fucking awesome sometimes, he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky suffers a bit from Entitled White Alpha Syndrome in this chapter. And he totally would have bailed on Foster if she wasn’t Thor’s woman. This doesn’t make him a bad person. It just makes him a dick. But it’s okay. He’s adorable enough to make up for it.


	19. Mama Said: Don’t Give Up, It’s a Little Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s lyric is from ‘High Hopes’ by Panic! At the Disco.
> 
> FINALLY, the gang’s all here, and Pepper is here to do what she does best: Clean up this mess. Or rather, hire experts to clean up this mess. 
> 
> Also: ya’ll ready for some answers? Because this is the chapter. Warning: All science contained within this work very hand wavy. This is also so hot off the presses it's still steaming. I've also gone back and done some minor detail edits to the previous chapters.

Natasha met Pepper on the helipad on the roof.

The polished red-head accepted Natasha’s hand as she stepped with practiced ease out of the helicopter she’d taken from the airport. Natasha noticed with distant jealousy that not a single hair on her perfectly coiffed hair so much as shifted out of the bun that was on top of her head despite the efforts of the helicopter blades above them. She wondered what hair spray she used and if she could steal it later. Nat moved to leave-

“Wait-” Pepper shouted above the whir of the blades winding down. “Helen-”

Natasha peered inside, and found a very green looking asian beta. It took both women to get her out, and she swayed a bit on the helipad.

“Ugh...” the stranger groaned. “I _ hate _ helicopters.”

Natasha dragged her to the elevator, with Pepper close behind her.

“New assistant?” Natasha asked once the elevator doors were closed and you could hear yourself think again.

Pepper smiled like a cat that ate the canary. “New doctor.”

Natasha frowned. “Doctor?”

“Natasha, I’d like you to meet Dr. Helen Cho. She’s a geneticist and is an expert in male omegas,” Pepper chirped.

Natasha stared down with wide eyed wonder at the beta. She was of average height, with a thin build and of obvious korean descent.

“Hi,” Helen said. She sounded like she was two seconds from puking.

“Where do you _ find _ people?” Natasha demanded.

Pepper smiled. “I’ve been looking for an expert for years. Got lucky on a lead I got from a fundraiser for an omega hospital wing I was at a few months ago. I was in a meeting with her when Jarvis called. Figured I’d bring her with me.”

“Tony is going to freak out,” Natasha warned. “You know he hates...” she hesitated, eyeing the new beta woman. She wondered how much she knew. “People knowing things,” she finished lamely. Pepper always threw her off her game for some reason.

Pepper frowned at her. “Well, he’s just going to have suck it up and get over it,” she declared. “I’ve let him have his head up his ass for _ years _\- and if he thinks he can just hide in his lab and pretend everything is fine, I will... I will call Rhodey, ” she threatened.

Nat blinked. Calling Rhodey was the nuclear option when it came to Problems With Tony. Everyone hated to do it since he was still tied up in the Air Force, and leave was hard to come by.

“I think we can get by with Steve for now,” Natasha offered neutrally, trying for peace. Internally, she was wincing. Pepper was clearly on an “improving Tony” warpath, which usually meant low level shouting behind closed doors and Tony locking himself in his labs for a week straight afterwards.

She hadn’t gone on one since Tony had mated Steve, and Natasha had hoped those days would be over. Clearly, she’d been wrong.

“What’s happening now?” Pepper asked.

“Nothing,” Natasha said. “We’re all stuck in a holding pattern.”

The doors opened to reveal the common floor. Natasha helped Helen to a bar stool and got her a glass of water.

“Who’s this?” Clint demanded. He had moved on to a large sandwich and some chips. The man was a stress eater and would probably weigh close to 300 pounds if he didn’t work out so much.

“Clint, meet Helen. Helen, this is Clint,” Pepper said, getting her own glass of juice from the fridge.

“Hi,” Clint said suspiciously, clearly giving her a bit of a stink eye.

“Hi,” Helen said, still looking a bit green.

“Helen is an expert in male omegas,” Natasha offered.

Clint cheered considerably. “No shit? That’s awesome!”

“Jarvis, where’s Tony?” Pepper asked.

“Sir is in the Penthouse with Captain Rogers.”

“Well, tell him to get down here already. We have work to do,” Pepper snipped.

It took at least 20 minutes for everyone to gather. They gathered around the sofas. Tony, looking like death warmed over, complete with dark circles under his eyes, slumped in the middle sofa, leaning shamelessly against Steve. Clint took the floor by their feet and started passing Steve bits of popcorn and candy, who in turn then attempted to feed Tony with it.

Tony rolled his eyes, but would snatch the treats from Steve and eat it anyway with a look of long suffering. Steve looked stupidly happy about this for some reason. Natasha eyed them. It was obvious that something had happened between the two. She would have to corner Steve later.

Sam appeared out of the elevator with a sniffly and vaguely distraught brunette beta woman on his arm.

“I don’t think you’ve met everyone yet, Mrs. Parker,” he said gently.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Pepper said, stepping in flawlessly as a gracious host. “I’m Pepper. This is Doctor Helen Cho-” she gestured, and the two betas nodded at each other. “I’m so sorry that Peter is unwell.”

“Mr. Wilson said she knows about male omegas?” Mrs. Parker said hopefully.

“I do,” Helen said, looking uneasy. “To be honest, I’m not really sure what’s going on, but Ms. Potts said it was important-”

“Tell us what you know, first,” Tony commanded from the couch.

Helen looked to Pepper for assurance. “I... I guess I could do a basic presentation?” she offered, clearly baffled.

“That would be great,” Pepper said, smiling, and took a seat next to Tony. “You know you could always just tell her what’s going on,” Pepper said under her breath and through a gritted smile to Tony. “Instead of playing games.”

“We’ll see what she knows first,” Tony said warily, and poked Steve before covering his ears.

“SETTLE!” Steve barked. Loudly.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, and found a seat.

Steve surveyed the crowd. “Anyone know where Bucky is?” he demanded, frowning.

“Sergeant Barnes is currently sleeping. Do you wish me to wake him?” Jarvis asked.

Steve considered, then shook his head. “No. This isn’t strictly critical,” he sighed. “Alright, everyone- Doctor Cho has agreed to give us a presentation on male omegas,” Steve said. His tone implied You Will Listen Or Else. “Doctor?”

Cho stood in front of the Avengers and smiled nervously at them. She took a breath.

“Ah, good evening everyone,” she started. “I am Doctor Helen Cho, and I am a geneticist specializing in rare omegan disorders. I’ve been researching male omegas for nearly 10 years now. And I can assure you that despite popular beliefs, they do exist.”

Clint snorted. Tony kicked him into silence.

“It’s all down to the chromosomes. As you may know, the gene for omegas exists only on the X chromosome. And since it’s recessive, you need two X chromosomes to become an omega. It was thought that males cannot become omegas because they possess only one X chromosome. But, as we’ve learned through genetic testing, it is possible for males to possess two X chromosomes AND a Y chromosome. These individuals present as male. And when those Xs have the omega trait- you get a male omega.”

“So, you’re saying it’s a chromosomal disorder,” Bruce said from the lazy boy.

“Yes. And like all chromosomal disorders, there is a constellation of associated symptoms, most notably- the heart defects. Omegas have a slightly different heart structure than betas or alpha. For some reason this does not translate well in males. Depending on how it presents, a male omega at the very least will have an enlarged heart, and at worst, will have severe structural deformities. This is, ultimately, why male omegas have a 100% death rate. They either cannot live without a heart transplant from birth, or they live quietly as male betas until they present and the physical stress of their first heat kills them.”

There was shocked silence. More than one person looked sidelong at Tony with growing alarm.

“Have you ever met a live one?” Tony demanded.

“I’m sorry?”

“A live one. Have you ever met a live one, or have you only done autopsies?”

She stilled. “My brother was one,” she said quietly. “He collapsed during a basketball game when he was 13. My mother insisted on an autopsy. They found he had a fully developed uterus and ovaries in addition to the normal male reproductive organs. But that’s part of the problem. Outwardly they present as normal male betas. They have a unique reproductive tract-” she shrugged helplessly. “This means that diagnosis usually comes only _ after _ death has occurred. In fact, I believe that male omegas are much more common than anyone thinks- I believe that many male stillbirths with severe heart defects are, in fact, male omegas.”

“What was he like?” Natasha asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your brother,” Natasha said.

Cho beamed sadly at her. “He was a genius. Always tinkering. He had more energy than 10 people, I swear- he was always moving. Mom always said he would be the next Tony Stark-” she trailed off, as if noticing for the first time that Tony Stark was sitting in front of her.

Almost as one, everyone turned to look at Tony. He was bouncing his right leg and absently biting at a nail while staring intensely at Cho. He seemed unaware of the mass scrutiny.

“Tony-” Steve prompted gently.

Tony huffed. “She’s in,” he said, and abruptly stood up. Everyone else scrambled to their feet.

“Bruce, Sam- Mrs. Parker- lets go,” he went for the elevator.

Natasha and Pepper both herded a very confused Cho after them. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Nat and Pepper shared a look, then glared at Tony.

He frowned at them, looked at Cho, pursed his lips and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Alright,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “Dr. Cho what I’m going to show you is so classified they don’t have a level for it. Pepper here will have you sign all sorts of non-disclosure agreements and so forth, but I need your word that you’re not going to speak of any of this to anyone outside of the approved team. Got it?” He glared pointedly at her.

“Oh- yes. Of course,” Cho said.

“Good. Because forget the lawyers, if I catch you spreading this around they will never find your body.”

“Tony!” Pepper protested, shocked. Cho looked a bit scared, but more bewildered than anything. “You can’t just threaten people like that! I’m so sorry, Helen, don’t listen to him-”

Tony ignored her. A moment later the elevator doors opened and Tony led the small mob to Peter’s room.

Tony opened the door and marched inside. Darcy watched them come in with wide eyes.

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, hand going for her taser.

“Go to my floor and hang out with Jane, alright?” Natasha said. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Darcy asked, genuinely concerned, as she shoved her knitting in her bag.

“We’ll see. We got a new doctor,” Natasha explained, and hustled Darcy out. “Sorry Darcy. Nothing personal.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just expect updates!” Darcy demanded from the hallway. “I expect at least one hug from him when he’s better!” she was already halfway to the elevator.

“Stop by the cafeteria. They close at eight!” Natasha called after her.

“Yeah, yeah!” Darcy waved at her dismissively.

Nat joined the others. Sam, apparently, had been elected to give the rundown.

“Male, 15. Presented as an omega two months ago. Went into heat a month early at his school around 1 pm today. Standard suppressants were given, but he’s still unresponsive,” Sam said.

Cho looked at the boy with wide eyes. “He survived his first heat?” she demanded, and all but ripped the boy’s chart off the wall.

“Yes. He’s also a super,” Sam said.

Cho frowned at him. “I don’t know what that means-”

“He’s Spider-Man. He’s a junior member of the Avengers. He sticks to walls and stuff,” Tony said briskly.

Her eyebrows nearly came off her head. “He’s a mutant _ as well _?” She shook her head and flipped through the chart.

“His heart stopped?” she demanded.

“Something fibrillation,” Tony said.

“What the hell do you mean his heart stopped?” Mrs. Parker demanded. She’d parked herself on Peter’s bed, and had a hand in his curls. “What the hell Tony?”

“I called you! The stupid receptionist said she’d tell you it was an emergency! And your cell phone went straight to voicemail! I didn’t want to just leave a message-” Tony stopped, and ran a tired hand over his face. “I... it doesn’t matter. They shocked him back into rhythm or something.”

Mrs. Parker lost some of her fury but not all of it.

“He also has a fever?” Cho continued, politely ignoring the outburst.

“Highest was 105.4 I think,” Tony said. “We packed him with ice- it brought his fever down...” he looked at Peter. “Wait. What happened to the ice?”

“I took it off. You can’t leave ice on for that long without risking frostbite,” Sam said.

“But we had him down to 103! Look, he’s gone back up again!” Tony protested, pointing at a monitor that now read 104.2.

“We can put fans on him,” Sam said gently. “I’ll go arrange for some in a minute.”

Tony glared at him.

Cho frowned, and approached the bed. “Excuse me, Mrs. Parker, was it? I need to examine him.”

“Yes... of course,” Mrs. Parker scrambled to get out of the way.

Cho carefully scented the boys wrist. She made a face.

“Has anyone given him a diagnosis?” she asked.

“The last omegatrician said he was an underdeveloped alpha with a cocaine problem,” Natasha volunteered.

Cho’s frown deepened. She moved the blanket at the kid’s waist.

“No. This is typical,” she said. “The extra chromosome affects the external genital development**.” She replaced the towel. “How long has he smelled like this?”

“How do you mean?” Bruce asked.

“This... metallic undertone? Did it start when you gave him the suppressants?”

“He smelled like that when we got him from the school,” Tony said. “It’s gotten worse, though.”

“I told him he stank this morning,” Mrs. Parker said, wringing her hands. “I thought he just smelled like a locker room-” she hesitated. “I can’t remember if he smelled like metal though.”

“That’s because he’s been scent marked by at least one alpha,” Cho said brusquely. “A very strong one at that.”

Tony frowned. “Wait... what?” he demanded. “I would have noticed if he was scent marked-”

“You’re probably nose blind to it,” Cho said, and smiled at him. “Because if I’m not mistaken, the same one has marked you as well.”

Tony blinked. Stared at a wall. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered. “I’m gonna stab him right in his stupid dumb handsome alpha face-”

“I’ll hold him down,” Natasha murmured. “We can do later on the landing pad. We’ll use the hose there to wash away the evidence.”

Thankfully, this seemed to mollify him.

“Is he on any medication?” Cho said.

“Just his suppressants,” Mrs. Parker said.

Cho looked alarmed. “You gave him daily suppressants?” she demanded.

“They were custom made by me,” Tony said. “They’re perfectly safe for male omegas.”

Cho stared at him. “And how exactly would you know _ that _?”

“Because I’ve been taking them for years, and I’m fine,” Tony said, defensively. A second later, the look on his face meant that he hadn’t meant to say that.

Cho stared at him. “But you’re-”

Tony waved a hand. “Not important right now. The kid, please?” he pleaded.

Cho stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Well, to be honest, I’ve smelled this scent before. He’s rejecting the medication. He’s sweating whatever his body finds offensive out,” she said. “That’s why he smells so off. It also would also explain the fever and the unresponsiveness.” She unhooked the bag of liquid suppressants from the IV stand. Sam helped her disconnect it.

“We should increase his saline. Help him flush his system. We can see how he is in a few hours and reevaluate. Best case scenario we put some heart monitors on him and put him in a heat room and let him get it over with.”

“Worst case?” Tony asked.

“We put him in an induced coma until it’s over.”

Tony blanched.

“I would hesitate to put him under. If he is rejecting the medication, it may have something to do with his mutation. I wouldn’t want to put him anywhere near anesthesia until I’ve done some testing,” Bruce said, sounding worried.

“There are alternatives...” Cho said. “But you won’t like them.”

“What alternatives?” Mrs. Parker asked.

“Well, in the old, old days when an omega was too young for a mate and in distress like this, her omega relatives would... help.”

“Your right, I hate that and let’s never speak of it again,” Tony said instantly.

“I’ll do it,” Natasha said. “I’ve done it before.”

Everyone turned to gape at Natasha.

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Cho said quickly. “He’s lived through his first heat. That’s the crucial one, I think. I’m not saying it’s going to be smooth sailing, but I’m hopeful.”

“Do you know why he went into heat so early?” Mrs. Parker asked.

Cho considered. “Has anything stressful happened to him today?”

“Some alpha school teachers yelled at him. Chased him to the heat room,” Sam supplied. “They thought he smelled wrong.”

Cho hummed. “Young omegas are generally unstable with their heat cycles to begin with. Also, stress can trigger an early heat...” she shrugged. “There are so many factors really. It’s possible we’ll never know. It doesn’t really matter medically. What I’m worried about right now is his heart. Everything else is secondary. We _ need _ to do extensive testing once he’s more stable. It’s possible he might need surgery to repair a heart defect.”

Several people in the room turned to look at Tony.

“What?” he demanded defensively.

“When was the last time you had a comprehensive physical?” Bruce asked gently.

Tony visibly flinched. “I’m FINE,” he hissed. “And can we not do this now?” he pleaded. “The kid is like... literally right there. _ He’s _ the sick one,” he said, and gestured grandly at the pale teenager.

Instinctively, everyone looked at Peter. The door to the room slammed shut, followed by hurried footsteps in the hallway outside. Pepper was the first to speak.

“Did he seriously just run away just now? Did that just happen?” she demanded.

“He’s due for a vacation next week,” Natasha said softly.

Pepper gave a silent groan. “That is not an excuse! He always does this!” she complained, and turned to Helen. “Helen, I am very sorry for that. Tony is a bit of a drama queen around here. Bruce, could you introduce Helen to some of the doctors, and get her what she needs?”

“Of course,” Bruce said. “Why don’t we go and get some fans for Peter while we’re at it.”

“Mrs. Parker, if you need anything, anything at all, just ask,” Pepper said.

“Thank you, Ms. Potts,” Mrs. Parker said. She sat back down on his bed.

Pepper gave another round of smiles, then ducked out of the room. Natasha didn’t miss how Pepper’s smile dropped the second she turned away. She followed the red-head into the hallway. With a bit of hustle she managed to get in front of her.

Pepper frowned at her. “Natasha?” she demanded.

“You’re not his mate,” Natasha said flatly.

Pepper blinked. “Excuse me?” she said, clearly offended.

“You were going to chase Tony down just now, weren’t you.”

Pepper’s frown deepened. “Yes! Because he was rude!”

“Then you should talk to Steve.”

“What? Why?”

“Because that’s how a pack works, Pepper. He’s the pack _ omega _ . He’s mated to the pack _ alpha _. If you have a problem with him, you talk to Steve. If you yell at Tony and upset him, then Steve will have to do something about it.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“No. It’s a fact.”

“It is not the 1400s-” Pepper protested.

“I don’t make the rules,” Natasha said flatly. “But you should know what they are before you break them.”

Pepper pressed her lips together. “So, he gets a free pass now?” she demanded angrily.

“No. It’s called _ talking to Steve_.”

Pepper looked distinctly unhappy.

“So you either decide it’s worth talking to Steve about it or you get over it.”

Pepper looked even more unhappy.

Natasha watched her. Pepper blinked first.

“Whatever,” she grumbled, and stormed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Peter forgive me. For I have implied you have a small dick. And now most of your pack knows it. And your Aunt. I’m SO sorry! (I’ll make up for it later, I promise!)


	20. The Feelings Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have your ticket ready because we’re going on a ride to Feelingsville. Population: Steve and Tony. 
> 
> On a side note: several people have left comments concerned about Nat’s almost open hostility towards Pepper. I will say this: It is possible to be competent, kind and genuinely care about someone, and yet have a blind spot a mile wide in which you fail to meet (or even see) some of their most basic emotional needs. 
> 
> Some people are just... not meant to be together. They don’t fit. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s life. It happens. And Pepper is not a bad person. She loves Tony. But she doesn’t understand him in some very basic ways, and she’s hurt him through some thoughtless words/behavior on her part- hurt in ways that have left Natasha and other pack members picking up the pieces afterwards. So Nat’s response is not completely out of the blue. You’ll see examples of some of her reasons why in this chapter. 
> 
> Also, breakups are awkward things. It can take a while before you and your ex can find your places again in your friend groups. There can be a lot of posturing and ruffled feathers before everyone figures it out. 
> 
> Tags: Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting, hurt and comfort, past abuse, angst and fluff, so much fluff I had to use a crowbar to get it all in

Tony wasn’t running away. He wasn’t. It was more of a tactical retreat. Not that he _ had _ to run away from Pepper. He was Tony Stark. He didn’t _ have _ to do anything.

He kept telling himself that as he paced in the elevator. The fact that his skin itched and felt a little on the small side wasn’t helping. Probably because he didn’t shower earlier and still had bits of that horrible hotel carpet on his arms. UGH. Disgusting.

It wasn’t like army crawling with his reactor failing brought up memories of Obadiah and his desperate crawl through the workshop. Nope. Not him. He was... he was fine. Totally fine.

And he definitely was not running away from Pepper like a naughty school boy. She was fine. They were fine. And that glint in her eye when she’d first laid eyes on him probably just meant she was going to redecorate again. Or something. It was a totally different glint from all those times she’d tried to get him to see a therapist. Or that time she’d tried to convince him to get the arc reactor removed. Or those times she’d talked to him about possibly quitting being Iron Man. For his health and all that.

Because Steve. It was Steve’s job to... well. Whatever. Now.

He had a sudden memory of Steve’s hands. Of them moving, ever so slightly too fast out of the corner of his eye.

FUCK.

Jarvis, his eternal favorite son, took him straight to the penthouse, where Tony stumbled to the bathroom and almost tore off the medicine cabinet door in his haste to get it open. He used trembling hands to open his prescription bottle for Xanax, and dry swallowed a pill.

He groaned and leaned against the sink. What the fuck was with this day? It was like a day out of hell or something. One minute he was fine, it was a normal day, and the next he just couldn’t seem to take a breath without some damn thing or another tossing him around, both literally and figuratively.

He rubbed irritably at his skin. He needed a shower. That’s all.

He went to close the cabinet, and his eyes landed on the little vial of long acting liquid birth control. He hated taking that stuff. It always made him... clingy. Thank god he only had to take it before his heat. His suppressants kept it from showing up unexpectedly, but did nothing to prevent him from pupping. He’d never had to worry about it before Steve came along. No alpha during his heat meant no pups. Even Tony knew that.

A sudden horrible thought occurred to him and he double checked the expiration date. 5/2020.

Good. He had a over a year then. He wondered, not for the first time, why Natasha even had up to date birth control medication to give him. She didn’t have heats anymore. She shouldn’t need it. But when he’d turned up that day...

******

He had pounded on the door like there were terrorists after him. Natasha had insisted on having a tiny hallway added to her floor so that you couldn’t just walk off the elevator and into her private rooms. As if Jarvis would let anyone just waltz in on her.

“NATASHA!” he shouted, and pounded harder.

She opened her stupid fucking door wearing sleep pants, a tank top, and brandishing a gun in one hand.

“Tony?”

“I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up everything, oh god- Nat- Natasha- What am I going to do?” he babbled, distressed in every sense of the word. He could vaguely feel himself pulling at his own hair. And why was it so god damned hard to breath here?

Via some sneaky Natasha ninja skills he found himself on her couch, firmly tucked against her chest. He held onto her and whined.

“Shhh....” she sounded like she was comforting a wounded animal. She gently ran a hand up and down his back soothingly. “What happened?”

“I... I fucked up Nat. Oh god... I’ve ruined EVERYTHING-” he whined.

“Tony,” she demanded firmly.

He took some breaths. “I... I asked Steve to help me with my heat,” he whispered.

Nat’s hand froze for a second. “You told him you were an omega?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Tony nodded frantically, unable to form words. He could feel tears leaking out of his eyes. He buried his face into her neck.

“And he said no?” Natasha guessed.

Tony took a gasping breath. “It’s worse- oh god, it’s so much worse.”

She frowned. “What?”

“He said YES,” Tony said, voice strangled.

Nat’s hand froze for a second. “What?”

“Oh god, Nat. What am I going to DO?”

Natasha was silent for a moment. “Isn’t it a good thing, though- you asked-”

“I asked because I panicked! I have a heat in like 4 days and Pepper- Pepper said she wouldn’t help anymore after- after we broke up, and Rhodey... he’s-” Tony flailed an arm vaguely indicating something or other. “And I... I just need someone to pop in every now and again and make sure I have water bottles and stuff. And I thought ‘who do I know that’s dependable,’ and I thought of Steve, so I asked him, and it wasn’t until after he said yes that I remembered that he’s an alpha- he’s an ALPHA Natasha-” Tony whined desperately. “He’s like the most alpha to ever alpha ever!”

“And you just now realized that you asked an alpha to help you with your heat,” Natasha said levely. “And all that that.... implies.”

“YES!”

Natasha considered for a moment. “He’s... I mean. This is _ Steve _, we’re talking about Tony. If all you want is water bottles, I’m sure he’ll be okay with that.”

Tony said nothing, and squirmed a bit.

“You want him to do more?” Natasha asked.

Tony squirmed some more. “What... what if water bottles... what if that’s _ all _ he wants to do?” he whispered, clearly terrified of the possibility.

Natasha sighed. “Oh, Tony...”

“And I’ll fuck it up. I know I will-”

“It’s a heat, not a bomb. You can’t fuck it up-”

“But my scent blockers will wear off and he’ll puke- and oh god, Natasha. I can’t... I _ can’t _\- if he pukes I’ll never be able to look at him again- I’ll have to move back to Malibu-”

“Why would he puke?”

“Because I smell just _ awful _, Nat. Not even Rhodey can stand it-”

“He’s an alpha, Tony. Sometimes when you’re super incompatible for mating an omega doesn’t smell good to them. And he thinks of you like a brother, right?”

Tony considered, and then nodded. “I... yes,” he agreed reluctantly.

“So there. You don’t smell good to him because it would be like thinking your brother smells good.”

Tony was silent for a moment. “Pepper puked,” he said quietly into her shoulder. “A couple of times. She said I ruined bakeries for her. Whatever- whatever that means.”

Nat stilled. It was a bad stillness. It meant she was about to shoot someone. “Steve will _ not _puke. And if he does I’ll stab him,” she said firmly after a moment.

Tony turned wide eyes to Natasha. He could tell that this time she meant it. “Nat- you can’t... you can’t stab _ Steve _-” he whined.

“Why not? Bucky’s stabbed him at least twice since he was unfrozen. He’s still pack,” Nat said this like she was discussing the weather.

Tony stared at her, horrified.

“Fine. I won’t stab him. I’ll ban him from the gym instead,” Natasha conceded.

Tony huffed, but didn’t protest.

“Okay, so best case scenario: Steve doesn’t puke. He spends a week knotting your brains out....” she trailed off, and looked at the miserable omega in her lap. Her eyes narrowed. Tony suddenly found himself unable to look her in the face.

“You’ve never dated an alpha before,” she said quietly.

Tony suddenly became super interested in the carpet. Was this color called beige or eggshell? Or... or something?

“You’ve never spent a heat with an alpha,” she continued.

“I... just. I’m supposed to be a Beta. Betas don’t have heats,” Tony said haltingly. “I.. there wasn’t anyone...”

She Looked at him. “You’ve never been knotted, have you?”

“I’ve slept with lots of people! So many! Did I ever tell you about the twins from the Christmas cover-”

“But they weren’t alphas, were they?”

He sullenly studied the carpet. “No... Beta, remember?” he mumbled. His right leg started up, jittering in place.

She considered him for a long moment. Almost too long. “You know that knotting doesn’t hurt, right?” she said gently. “And it definitely doesn't hurt when you’re in heat.”

Tony side eyed her desperately, and huffed. “Well- yeah. Duh! I’m a literal genius Nat! I’m not stupid!”

It was obvious, even to the potted plants, that he was lying.

“I mean... I’ve seen- you know... porn and things. I know how it... I know how it works,” he protested. “I’m not- god damn it stop _ looking _ at me like that- I’m not some stupid virgin, Natasha!”

Natasha looked unimpressed. “You know they make that stuff mostly for alphas, right? It almost never happens like that.”

Tony blinked. He wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or terrified at that thought.

She patted his leg. “Wait here,” she said, and disappeared into a back room. She reemerged a couple of minutes later, holding a vial. She put it carefully on the coffee table in front of them.

“What is that?” Tony asked suspiciously. This was Natasha after all. It could be anything from a bio-weapon to a love potion from Asgard.

“That is contraception made for heats. Inject 3 ccs the day before your heat starts and you’re good for a week.”

Tony stared at it like it was radioactive. “Any... anywhere in particular?” he asked, sounding slightly strangled. Oh god. Pupping. He hadn’t even thought of that...

“Your hip is good.”

They sat there in silence for a moment. She nudged the bottle closer to him. “Take it. And if Steve wants water bottle duty... fine. And if not... there won’t be any accidents.”

More silence. Tony, after a long beat, took it. The tiny bottle felt oddly heavy in his hand.

“I...” he started.

“You’re welcome. And Tony? Trust Steve. He’s a good alpha. He’ll take care of you.”

Tony nodded, feeling oddly numb. Yeah. Steve was the best. It’s why he’d asked.

“Okay...” he said slowly. “Okay... I think... I think... I think I’m gonna go do some... my workshop...” he mumbled.

Then he had fled, taking the bottle with him.

****

Tony carefully replaced the bottle on the shelf.

Wait. Was he feeling warm? Was it warm in here? Did he always keep the bathroom this hot? When was his last heat anyway? He couldn’t remember.

“Jarvis?”

“Sir?”

“When is my next heat?”

“It is scheduled for next week, sir.”

“Fuck,” Tony muttered, and glared at the bottle. “Do I have a reminder set to take my birth control shot?”

“Yes sir. It is scheduled to remind you 5 days from now.”

“Good,” Tony sighed. If nothing else, he could count on his heats being regular. Except for that time in the cave his heats had been like clockwork. And maybe that time after his parents died. And the whole... New York portal thing...

And he should really stop thinking about this.

Shower.

He should take a shower and go to his workshop and maybe trace those faults in that circuit board. It would be fiddly and almost meditative. No room for things like thinking.

He stripped, kicking his clothes into a random corner, and took a nice hot shower. He scrubbed until he was pink, making sure to get every last bit of that stupid carpet off him.

By the time he was done, he could feel the Xanax kicking in, and the steam had helped him feel like he could breathe again.

He stepped out into the main room wrapped only in a towel, and was surprised to find Steve sitting at the little table next to the window, looking at something on a Stark Pad.

“Steve?”

Steve looked up, and scrambled to his feet. “Tony-” he hugged him tightly. “Is everything okay baby? Jarvis said you had to take a Xanax-”

“I’m fine. Peter- he should be fine. I just...” he leaned against Steve for a moment. “Pepper was a bit much, is all,” he mumbled. God, it felt good when Steve touched his bare skin. He smelled so good too- like coffee and wood smoke and just the right amount of alpha musk.

Wait. It was hard to think with Steve nuzzling his hair like that, but he could have sworn he was supposed to be angry with Steve over something.

Something... something to do with... he inhaled deeply- and he remembered.

“You scent marked Peter,” he said, deeply offended, and pushed Steve away.

Steve was left blinking in confusion down at Tony. “What?”

“You scent marked Peter. The doctor said so,” Tony snarled. “What the fucking hell, Steve?! He’s a god damned child!”

Steve frowned at him for a moment before he got his bearings. “Exactly. He’s an omega under my protection-”

Tony made a face of betrayed confusion. “What? Since the fuck when do you do that?” he demanded. “You never do that to Natasha-”

“Natasha doesn’t need my scent to keep people from messing with her,” Steve said. “But Peter is very timid-”

“Did you ask him first?” Tony demanded.

Steve’s frown sharpened. “Tony-” he said sharply.

“What?”

“I’m the pack alpha. I did it because I have a duty to protect him-” Steve said seriously.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no’ then,” Tony snarked.

Steve sighed. “No,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter. People need to know that if they mess with him, they’ll answer to me.”

Tony glared at him. “Who else?” he demanded after a sharp silence.

“What?” Steve’s reply was baffled.

“Who else is under your... ‘protection’?” Tony demanded.

Steve stared at him in shock for several seconds.

“Tony... sweetheart- you’re _ my _ omega-” he said gently, and reached out to touch Tony’s face with his hand.

Tony swatted it away, feeling near tears. “That... that is _ not _ an answer!” he snarled, and stormed off to the closet, slamming the door shut behind him.

God. He felt like such a fucking fool. He threw on some jeans and band t-shirt. He needed to go out in the suit, and just... fly. And plan his next move. He’d lost the house in Malibu to that stupid pretend terrorist, but he was a billionaire. He’d just buy another one. He also did have that island with a volcano on it. Maybe he should just say ‘fuck it’ and make the beach house there the biggest, stupidest, most cartoonishly evil lair possible. He could get drunk there, and no one would care. It’d be great. And he wasn’t allergic to cats. He could adopt like six of them.

Fuck it. It couldn’t be that hard to find non-Nazi bad guys, right? What was his name- Mag... Magnet something... whatever. The X-Men hated him. Maybe he would like a place to crash and party. Deadpool- now there was a guy who knew how to make drinks.

Okay, maybe not Deadpool.

Loki. He didn’t absolutely hate Loki. And his magic would make for a hell of a party trick...

Maybe Fury would finally have that aneurysm he always looked like was on the verge of having. That would be a plus.

He sniffed, and furiously wiped his face with the back of his hands. Why the fuck was he crying? Stupid, stupid... he’d been cheated on before. He’d get over it. He always did...

He pulled the closet door open and almost tripped over Steve.

Steve, who was kneeling on the floor in front of the door, with red eyes.

Tony stared down at him. His brain refused to compute this. Steve... Steve was kneeling. He looked like he was crying. What the fuck- Steve didn’t cry.

“Baby- there’s no one else. I swear. I _ swear _. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I keep... I keep fucking this up. I don’t mean to, but-” Steve babbled.

Tony stared down at him horror. Alphas didn’t kneel like that. Steve didn’t cry. But there he was... the big stupid dumb alpha was doing both those things.

For some reason it horrified and panicked him more than the thought that Steve was cheating on him.

“I know I’m just... the worst alpha ever. I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I swear. Please- Tony. Baby. Can you forgive me?” Steve said, his voice wavering all over the place.

And then he bared his throat.

Tony found himself skittering backwards, and damn near climbing up the wall behind him. Alphas just did not DO that. Never mind pack alphas. If someone saw- if anyone _ knew _\- they could challenge Steve. The pack might even demand it.

“Don’t... don’t _ do _ that!” Tony protested. “You... you can’t _ do _ that-” he complained.

Steve didn’t move.

“Stop that! Steve-” Tony looked around, wide eyed. “You can’t... Jesus Christ... I SAID STOP!”

“I don’t care,” Steve said, his voice determined. “I... I can’t lose you Tony. I can’t. I’d do anything for you baby,” he said softly. “Just... give me another chance. _ Please _.”

They stared at each other for a moment, stuck in a frozen tableau.

Jarvis was the one who broke the moment. “Sir, do you require assistance?” he demanded. “Should I call for Sergeant Barnes?”

Tony blinked. “What- fucking hell, no! Do _ not _ call Bucky!” he turned to Steve, who was still on the fucking ground. “And would you... get up? Please I can’t... god damn it, I’m staying alright? I’m not- just stop it. I... I’m not worth that. Don’t DO that-” he pleaded. He felt tears start up again.

_ God damn it _ . Why the fuck could he not stop crying? _ Jesus Christ. _

He needed a drink.

He needed 10 drinks.

They were on the couch now, with Steve holding him tightly. When had that happened?

“You’re worth it. You are so worth it baby,” Steve murmured, and kissed his hair. “I’d leave it all for you.”

Tony shook in his arms. How the hell was he supposed to answer that?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I swore I’d take care of you when I took you as my mate, and I haven’t. I fucked up. I’ve fucked up so much today. And in the past, as well,” Steve said. “But I’m going to do better. I swear. I swear on my Ma’s grave. I’m going to do better.”

Tony sniffed miserably, and leaned his head against Steve’s chest. He didn’t really know what Steve was talking about, but he had his “rant about injustice” tone on, and there was really no stopping him once he started. Steve hadn’t fucked up. It was just Tony, being ridiculous. Had he actually thought for even a second that Steve was cheating? _ Jesus. _ He was STEVE for god’s sake-

God. He was just so tired. Why the hell did he have to be a fucking drama queen so much? He inhaled deeply of his alpha’s scent. God. He had no right to smell so fucking good. It just wasn’t _ fair. _

“Tony-”

There was something about the man’s tone that made him look up. Steve cupped his face with a stupidly big hand. Steve looked miserable and sincere.

“Tony. I swear. I will _ never _hit you. You know that, right? I’d never hurt you baby,” he said desperately. “Please. Please believe me.”

Tony froze. He felt his eyes grow wide as saucers. He had a sudden flash of memory of those fucking hands again... moving in his peripheral vision...

He forced himself to breathe again, but found he couldn’t look Steve in the eye anymore. He found himself gazing fixedly at the floor.

“Of course you wouldn’t-” he said, full of bluff and swagger. “Like I would ever let anyone hit me-” he snorted dismissively. “Why... why would you even say such a thing?” he said, giving Steve his best “fuck you and your cameras” smile.

Steve looked even more miserable. “Today. I...” he swallowed, turned stubborn, then clearly just soldiered on, “I reached for you. And you flinched. You flinched, sweetheart,” he said gently, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against Tony’s cheek.

“I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” Steve continued, when Tony stayed silent and frozen. “You were hurt and tired, and I didn’t even check to see if you were okay first. It was unacceptable. Dangerous even. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have comforted you and taken care of you and instead I-....” he trailed off, determination taking over his face. “Instead I was a complete and irresponsible asshole. It will NEVER happen again. Please. Hear me baby- I promise. I won’t do that _ ever _ again.”

Tony found his “fuck you” smile had died somewhere during Steve’s speech. He studied Steve’s face. He _ looked _ like he meant it. But he’d heard this sort of speech before. His dad had trotted it out a time or two after he’d gone too far- broken a bone or left black eyes that were impossible to cover (no amount of concealer will help when your fucking eye is swollen shut). He’d never apologized for talking to him like that. Only said that next time he’d wouldn’t hit him. That he felt bad for hurting him like that.

It had all been lies, of course.

But this was _ Steve _.

And Steve... well. He hadn’t hit him. He could have. But he didn’t, did he?

“Okay,” he said, feeling wretched. He should probably apologize here, he thought. For being a fuck up. For going out without telling anyone. But he just couldn’t get the words to form. They stuck in his throat.

Thankfully, Steve didn’t seem to care.

“Thank you baby. Thank you,” he gushed, and pressed careful and gentle kisses to Tony’s forehead. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I never _ ever _want to scare you,” he said between kisses.

Tony sighed. This was... nice, he thought. Normally he avoided things like outright affection, but this... this was nice.

Steve eventually stilled, and they sat for a moment, foreheads pressed against each other, eyes closed.

“Who hit you sweetheart?” Steve asked quietly. “Please... it’s killing me. Who hit you?” he pleaded.

Tony went stiff again.

“You don’t have to give me a name, sweetheart. Just... please tell me that he’s not doing it anymore, okay? I... I won’t forgive myself is someone’s been hurting you and I didn’t notice-”

“No. He died. Ages ago,” Tony said quickly. It was the truth.

Steve heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry. They should have never laid hands on you.” He gave Tony another long gentle kiss to the forehead. “And if anyone does it again, you need to promise to tell me, okay? Please.”

“Okay,” Tony mumbled.

“Good. Good. Thank you baby,” Steve said. “I’m here to take care of you, you know that, right? I want to. I _ love _ taking care of you.”

Tony squirmed a bit. He didn’t need anyone to take care of him. He was _ Tony Stark, damnit _. But he wasn’t going to tell Steve that. It was such a harmless lie, and Steve- he was so happy. So he kept his mouth shut.

They sat there for a moment. Steve took to running his fingers through Tony’s hair. It was heavenly. So Tony luxuriated for a moment, just laying against his stupidly strong alpha, taking in his scent and just... relaxing.

It was nice, this. Why didn’t he do this more often? He couldn’t remember why.

“I want to take better care of you,” Steve said suddenly. “I _ need _ to take better care of you.”

Confused as to where this was going, Tony frowned.

“So I want to ask you some questions, okay? I want you to be honest with me, alright?”

“Okay...” Tony said guardedly.

“When you’re in heat. Is there anything I do you don’t like? Or is there something you need me to do, that I’ve not been doing?” he asked earnestly.

Tony froze. Completely and utterly. How was it possible for your heart rate to spike suddenly like that and not have something explode?

“Tony...” Steve said. He sounded miserable again. “Please. I swear. Whatever it is. I’ll do it. I don’t care- if I... if you want me to stand on my head and sing something I will-”

“Scruffing,” Tony muttered, then instantly regretted it. He would have bolted except for the fact that Steve was really strong and held him firmly.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay. What about it baby? You want more of it?”

“NO!” he didn’t quite shout in Steve’s face but he might as well have based on the expression on Steve’s face. He would have bolted again, but again- Steve’s stupid tree trunk arms kept in place.

“Shhh...” Steve held him firmly and rubbed his scent glands, the god damned cheater. “It’s alright. I got you.”

Tony panted as he turned into a puddle of omega goo.

“You don’t want me to scruff you?” he asked quietly.

Tony shook his head violently into Steve’s chest.

Steve considered him, clearly unhappy.

“Sweetheart... I’m going to need a reason here,” Steve said finally. “I scruff you because it’s for your own safety. It keeps you from hurting yourself on my knot. You squirm too much otherwise. I don’t want you to tear something.”

Tony blinked back tears.

“I know. I’m sorry. If you hate it, I’ll do my best to do it less. But I can’t let you hurt yourself baby,” he said.

Tony buried his face deeper in Steve’s chest and shook.

“Hey. Talk to me, sweetheart. Take your time. I can wait.”

Steve laid there, holding him firmly and gently rubbing his scent glands.

“Obie,” Tony said eventually.

“What about him?”

“He... he scruffed me when he took my reactor,” Tony whispered.

Steve stilled. “What?” it was clear that Steve was millimeters away from Freaking Out.

“Obidiah. He... he knew I was an omega. Helped Dad cover it up when I was younger. He... he scruffed me and took the reactor out and then left me... I-”

“And scruffing you brings back bad memories-” Steve finished grimly.

Tony nodded. He watched Steve carefully. The man was thinking- he could practically see the gears turn in his head.

“What about my Voice?” he asked. “Any bad memories there? I could Tell you to be still...” he didn’t seem happy about the option.

Tony considered this. “I... I don’t know,” he said.

Steve kissed his hair. “It’s okay. We’ll try some new things and see what works, okay?”

“So... no more...” Tony asked hesitantly.

“No. Not if it makes you panic,” Steve said firmly.

It felt like a several ton cinder block had just fallen off his chest. _ Jesus. _

“Anything else? You want different bars or something? Are you sick of the blue Gatorade yet?”

“No. They’re fine,” Tony said quietly.

For a while, Steve ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony watched him through half lidded eyes. The man was clearly thinking about something. You could almost see the smoke coming from his ears.

“The Penthouse,” Steve said suddenly.

Now it was Tony’s turn to be confused. He frowned up at Steve. “What?”

“Why don’t you like the penthouse?”

“What?”

“You never sleep up here outside of your heats,” Steve said. “And when we first got together you were using the guest room...” he trailed off. “But you’d already been broken up with Pepper for what- at least 3 weeks by then... and I know she moved out before then...”

“I... the penthouse is fine,” Tony lied.

Steve eyed him. “And if I asked to move some stuff around- maybe set up a corner as a study-”

“I... guess?” his tone implied that he was not okay with this.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“Pepper...” Tony said hesitantly. “She’ll get mad.”

Steve frowned. “She doesn’t live here anymore, Tony,” he said. There was a tone there- Tony couldn’t quite read it.

Tony looked around the penthouse, and felt... disconcerted. “Yeah but...” it felt wrong to move things. “She... she picked everything-”

Steve stared at him for a long moment, while Tony sat there feeling small and miserable for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“Everything everything?” Steve asked at last. “Did you help at all?”

“I installed the TVs, and the speakers and stuff-”

“But you, for example, didn’t pick the couch.”

“No.”

Steve looked slowly around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. For some reason he didn’t seem very happy about what he saw.

“The paintings?” he asked.

“No.”

“The wall color?”

“No. I told you Steve- I did hardware installs,” Tony said, wondering why Steve was so hung up on this.

Steve stared at wall. Tony had to check to make sure it wasn’t melting under the intensity of his gaze.

“Steve?” he asked hesitantly, and tried to subtly scent him. Was he mad? He smelled... intense. Tony couldn’t tell. Nor could he fathom why Steve was apparently so upset that Pepper had decorated the place.

Could it be jealousy thing? Alphas could be territorial. He’d never really seen Steve do that but-

“What if I called Pepper and asked?” Steve said suddenly, interrupting Tony’s train of thought.

“What?”

“If I called Pepper and she said it was okay. We could redecorate then?” Steve asked doggedly.

“I mean... you can try?” Tony said. “But she’ll just change it back- she always does... I don’t even know how she does it honestly. I just come up here and everything will be put back.”

Steve frowned at him. “And if I said I wouldn’t let her?” he asked seriously.

Tony stared at him, horrified. Jesus Christ. Steve and Pepper going head to head? There wouldn’t be much left of the city, maybe even the state... he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“I mean... if you want to that badly-” Tony said haltingly. It wasn’t like it was an unreasonable request. Right? Steve had, you know... things. He probably wanted a place to put them, though Tony was pretty sure most of Steve’s stuff was still on Steve’s old private floor aside from his clothes and underwear and stuff.

Steve pulled out a cell phone from a pocket, and started dialing.

“What- oh my god- Steve- are you seriously calling her right now?” Tony demanded.

What the hell was going on?

“Yes,” Steve said, putting the phone on speaker.

Pepper, being the wonderful perfect person that she was, answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey Pepper, it’s Steve,” Steve said, with what sounded suspiciously like his “buy my war bonds” voice.

“Hey Steve- is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Listen. I know it’s probably not the best time, but Tony and I were talking about redecorating the penthouse, and I was wondering if there was anything you wanted to keep.”

Tony frowned. That... that was not asking permission.

“What? Oh... um. Not really, no.”

“So you don’t want any of the paintings or anything?”

“Oh, no. It’s fine. Do- do you need decorator? I can give you some phone numbers.”

“No, I think we’re going to do it ourselves.”

“Oh,” Pepper said with a small laugh. “If that’s what you want- that’s fine. Just keep an eye on Tony. He has the worst design sense I’ve ever seen. Did you know he once took down a Barnett Newman and put up a cartoon poster of his armor once?”

“He did?”

“Yeah. I had to take it down after a couple of weeks. It clashed horribly with the lamps-” she trailed off. “Do you need movers or anything? Again- I can get you some phone numbers-”

“I think I can manage it. And if not, I can call Bucky,” Steve said easily.

Tony physically could not contain himself anymore. “You... you don’t mind, Pepper?” he asked.

Pepper paused. “Tony?”

“Yeah- you don’t... don’t mind?”

“Tony it’s a penthouse. Decorate it how you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! God Tony, like I said- it’s a penthouse not a nest. I’m not some over dramatic omega that’ll have hysterics because you moved the couch two inches to the left,” she said, sounding tired and just done. “We broke up. Do what you want. Is that all?”

“Thank you Pepper,” Steve said.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And if that’s really all, I gotta go. We’re moving Peter to a heat room.”

“He’s awake?” Tony demanded.

“Enough to complain that he needs to pee and how hot he is,” she said fondly.

“I’ll be down-”

“No. You can’t. Cho says he won’t be lucid for much longer before his heat hits in full force. Blood relatives only.”

Tony frowned. He’d have to talk to Cho about that. But not now when it sounded like things were at critical stage.

“Keep us updated, would you Pepper?” Steve asked.

“Sure. I’m sorry. Gotta go- they need something-”

“Bye-” Tony tried.

Pepper hung up.

“Well, sounds like good news all around,” Steve said cheerfully, and put the phone away before gently moving Tony off him and standing. “What do you want to get rid of first?” he asked.

Tony stared at him. “What?” Did he miss something?

“Do you like this lamp?” Steve asked, walking over, and pointing at some sort of collection of random sized white cubes someone had stuck a lampshade on.

Tony blinked. “Not really,” he said.

“Okay,” Steve said. He carefully unplugged it from the wall, picked it up off the table it had been sitting on, and walked over to the french doors and tiny balcony overlooking the landing pad. He opened the door.

Tony watched in confusion. “Steve?”

Confusion turned to horror as Steve literally chucked the lamp off the balcony. There was a sort of distant crash of something hideously expensive breaking beyond repair.

“STEVE!” Tony rushed over, and looked out the window. Sure enough, the lamp was in pieces on the landing pad. “Have you lost your mind?” he demanded. “What- why?”

“You didn’t like it,” Steve said as if this was the most reasonable thing in the world.

“You can’t... you can’t just throw it off the damn balcony!”

“Why not? It’s your stuff. You should try it. It felt kinda good,” Steve, the reasonable and sane one of the pack said, wandering over to a giant silver mirror. “Do you like this thing?” he asked.

Tony, entranced by the broken lamp and not in control of his senses said, “No.”

A few seconds later he had to scramble to get out of the way as it too, went sailing through the french doors to the pad below.

“Steve!” Tony protested.

“Sorry,” Steve said, completely not sorry at all. “You can do the next one.”

“What are you doing?” Tony felt near to tears. Oh god, was Steve losing his mind? They couldn’t both lose their minds. Someone had to be the sane one, damnit!

Steve stopped his investigation into how a painting was attached to a wall to look at him. He carefully walked over, and cupped Tony’s face in his giant hands.

Tony sniffed, feeling adrift and confused.

“I’m going to help you make your nest baby. But first, we need to get rid of all the stuff you don’t like.”

“What?” Tony said, baffled.

“You need a nest, sweetheart. It’s not good for an omega to not have a nest. So I’m going to help you make the penthouse into one.”

“But...”

“If you want, we can set all this stuff on fire after we finish throwing it out.”

Tony stared open mouthed at Steve. For a full minute, words utterly failed him. He meant it. The damn fool actually _ meant it. _

Without any input from his brain, he pointed at the grand piano that occupied a sunny corner. “I hate that stupid thing,” he said. “I can’t even play, and I want to lay in the sun there-”

He hadn’t even finished speaking before Steve was manhandling it across the floor. He had to break the legs off and go get his shield out of a closet to strategically hit it in a few places (making it make the most god awful noise in the process) but eventually it too went over the balcony railing.

Tony thought it was quite possibly the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

The stupid white couch and ugly throw went next- that didn’t require any dissembling, and flew nicely. Tony watched it land from a nearby window- it hit and rolled right on top of the bits of piano. The man had a talent, Tony thought somewhere on the edge of hysteria. Was there a sport that called for throwing shit out a window to land all in one pile? He felt like that should be a sport.

The fucking Barnett Newman- he threw that out himself. Stupid painting of a stupid fucking black line. A Pollock followed it out. Looking at it for too long had always given him a headache.

They were in the middle of getting some sort of dark wood antique wardrobe thing Tony had never used out- (“You have to pivot it Steve - no the other way!”) when Jarvis spoke up.

“Sir, Ms. Romanov is demanding to know what’s going on.”

“Don’t let Clint set it on fire! I get to do that!” Tony snapped. “Come on- put your back into it!” he goaded/yelled at Steve.

Steve grunted and the wardrobe landed with a splintering crash and various complaints from the remains of the piano.

“I’m sorry sir, but she is requesting verbal confirmation from Captain Rogers.”

“Tell her to keep everyone off the landing pad,” Steve said. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Tony tossed a vase out. To his immense disappointment it bounced and rolled instead of shattering. Steve immediately handed him another one. Tony didn’t just toss that one. He threw it as hard as he could at the ground. This one did shatter.

The coffee table was next. That one almost skidded off the landing pad.

“A little less power on the next one, I think,” Tony said. “Don’t want to crush someone.” Steve was already dragging a new victim- sorry- priceless white sideboard thing- towards the balcony. Tony watched as it too, was sent to a splintery grave.

The whole thing was immensely satisfying in some inexplicable, primal way.

“How do you feel about the bed?” Steve asked.

Tony looked down from his position on a bar stool set on top of an end table. “Keep the mattress. Toss the frame,” he said, and went back to trying to unscrew a chandelier from the ceiling.

Steve reappeared a minute later after another horrible crash from the landing pad. “You need a hand, sweetheart?”

Tony grumbled. “I can’t reach it!” he bitched. “Is there a phone book or something somewhere-” he squeaked as Steve gently picked him up and set him on the floor.

“Let me,” he said with a bright smile that for some reason made Tony feel a bit weak in the knees.

He got his shield, hopped on the table, did a bit of banging on the chain attaching it to the ceiling, then hefted it triumphantly like a hunter with a fresh kill when it came down. “Got it,” he said, and beamed at Tony.

Tony watched as Steve hauled it out and onto the balcony. The hideous monstrosity landed with a million tinkles of shattering glass. Steve actually brushed his hands off against each other when it was done, the big goof.

He turned, and stopped, startled, when he found Tony directly in front of him.

“Babe?” Steve asked uncertainty.

“Have I ever told you that I think you’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen?” Tony said breathlessly. He eyed Steve like a piece of meat. Sexy sexy meat.

Steve’s eyes widened. Looked at Tony.

“Gee, Tony. I think you’re kinda swell too,” he said after a moment with a shit eating grin.

Tony pulled him down, and kissed his alpha properly for what felt like the very first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just gotta throw all of your ex’s things in a pile and set it on fire. That particular scene I’ve had in my head since I thought of this story. (In particular, Steve manhandling a grand piano out a window for Tony “just because”.) I’m so glad I finally got to write it!


	21. Fated Mates / In the Heat of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? You thought I'd spend two whole chapters talking about fated mates and not do anything with it? Lol. You’re funny. Buckle up buckaroos. We going for a ride. Also from here on out I'll be updating tags in the story description as we go. I've always had these next few chapters planned- I just wasn’t sure how long it would take me to get there, and I despise false advertising as much as the next person. 
> 
> An alternate title for this chapter is: The Last One About the Longest Fucking Day Ever. 
> 
> Or: I swear to god that Peter is in the next chapter. I promise. I miss the silly bugger too. 
> 
> Tags: Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting, Tony Whump, Tony needs a Hug, Pepper Needs a “How to Take Care of Your Omega” Class

Steve stumbled out of the elevator into the common area. His hair looked like a birds nest. His shirt was inside out and probably backwards. And he was fairly sure his pants weren’t zipped all the way. 

He didn’t care. He started ripping open cabinets.

“Whoa- where’s the fire, Cap?” Natasha asked from the other side of the kitchen island. 

“Out of Gatorade upstairs,” he said grimly. 

Nat frowned. “What’s the rush? His vacation doesn’t start until next week.” 

Steve stopped, and gave her a Look. 

Her eyes widened. “What? Seriously?” 

“I’ve got maybe 10 minutes before he wakes up for another round,” he said grimly, ripping open more cabinets. 

“Hey Nat- can I get some help here? I’ve got this bobby pin-” 

Steve turned at the unfamiliar voice to see a curvy brunette omega wearing some sort of polka dot dress. She looked like she was coming from the bathroom, and her hair was half-undone from a Victory roll. 

“Holy shit! Are you Captain America?” she babbled. 

Steve frowned at her. “Do I know you?” he demanded, bristling. 

“Darcy, if you would just hold still a minute I could help-” another woman came up behind her, didn’t notice that she’d stopped, and ran into her hard enough that she bounced backwards. “What the hell?” she demanded. 

“Stand down Cap,” Natasha teased. “This is Jane- she’s an astrophysicist that’s dating Thor-” the smaller of the two stared and waved meekly after a moment. 

“And that’s Darcy. She’s... Darcy,” Natasha said. 

“Hey!” Darcy in the dress protested. 

Steve took a breath. He didn’t have time for this. Gatorade. “Fine,” he snapped. “Don’t let them wander off.” 

Natasha gave him a look of utter contempt. “Don’t be all pissy with me, Rogers. I know where you sleep.” 

Steve snorted, and resumed ripping open cabinets. 

“Not to be all like nosy, but... you smell like you should be with your omega right now...” Darcy offered, wrinkling her nose as she walked over to stand next to Natasha. 

“I’m working on it. Where the fuck is the god damned blue Gatorade?” he huffed. “I  _ know _ Jarvis ordered more of it-” 

“It’s in the closet next to the emergency stairs,” Bucky said, emerging from the elevator. He looked like he was still half asleep, squinting in the light from the overheads. He was wearing a white wife beater and gray sweatpants filled with holes. “Any news on the kid?” he asked, absently sidestepping Steve to get to the kitchen. 

“He’s cranky. Apparently the medication did a number on his hormone balance, so he’s switching randomly between hysterical weeping and destroying everything in the room while screaming about how much he hates things,” Nat said calmly, digging through Darcy’s hair. “Sam put Clint on tranq duty just in case.” 

“Make sure someone relieves him eventually-” Steve said absently. He made a sound of triumph as he found a case of the mythical blue Gatorade under a blanket. 

Bucky, meanwhile was rifling through the cabinets. “Does anyone know where the peaches are? I can’t find them-” 

“We’re out. Sam ate the last one,” Natasha said, carefully plucking something from Darcy’s hair. “Got it,” she said. 

“No. I can fucking smell them. They’re here  _ somewhere _ ,” Bucky growled. He moved to stalk over to the next section of the kitchen and nearly ran over Darcy. He stopped only a few inches away from her.  “Hey dude!” Darcy protested. “Watch the goods!” 

Bucky stared like his brain was broken. 

There was something about the way he stood there that made Steve drop the case of Gatorade on the floor. It landed with a thump, but Bucky didn’t even look up. 

“Buck?” Steve asked carefully, eyes riveted on his friend. 

Bucky inhaled, scenting the air. “Omega?” he asked with quiet wonder. 

Steve made small motions with his hands at Natasha, who was already several steps ahead of him. She pushed the beta woman behind her, and put a wary hand on one of her knives. 

The scent of rut smacked Steve in the face. It must have hit Darcy even harder, because she blinked, and backed up a step, eyes wide. 

SHIT. Bucky hadn’t had a rut since he’d been unfrozen almost two years ago. There was no telling what would happen. 

“Nat-” Steve warned, but she had already tossed the confused and protesting beta over her shoulder and was making a run for the emergency stairs. Steve made sure to put himself between Bucky and the retreating women as much as possible. He stayed there until he heard the door to the stairwell slam closed. 

“Bucky,” Steve said gently, and crept forward. “Hey. Can you look at me Buck?” he coaxed. 

Bucky ignored him. He stood there, nostrils flaring as he openly scented the air. Darcy was worriedly glancing back and forth between Steve and Bucky. 

“Omega-” Bucky said again. This time, there was a hint of command in his tone. 

Darcy’s eyes snapped to his face, then held there. She breathed in. Looked like she was having some sort of religious revelation. 

“Alpha?” she whispered. It almost sounded reverential. 

Bucky held out a hand. Inviting.

“Darcy-” Steve called out, unsure of where this was going. 

Bucky growled a warning, and Steve froze. 

Steve watched with his heart in his throat as Darcy stared at Bucky for a long moment- then climbed the alpha like a tree. 

Bucky had her up against the refrigerator in a second flat, and Steve watched with open shock as they did their best to suck each other’s faces off. 

_ Shit.  _

Now what? 

He sighed, and checked his watch. God damn this fucking day. 

He was tempted to leave them. Judging from the sounds the omega was making she wanted Bucky almost more than he wanted her- but it was rapidly becoming clear that they were about 5 seconds away from enthusiastically defiling the communal kitchen. And if he walked off now, Natasha would stab him in his sleep for allowing that.

So... just get them to the elevator? Jarvis would make sure they got to the right floor. 

He carefully side stepped around the kitchen island, positioning himself so that if Bucky fled, he would go away from Steve and towards the elevator. 

“Bucky,” he barked. 

Bucky ignored him. 

“BUCKY.” He used his alpha voice. Bucky twitched, but was immediately distracted by his omega. 

“SERGEANT BARNES,” he roared, loading as much Alpha Command as possible into his voice. 

Bucky snapped to attention, nearly dropping Darcy. She squawked in protest, but held on with her legs around his waist. 

“Not here, Bucky-” Steve said sternly. 

“Wha?” Bucky slurred. The man’s eyes were dilated and he swayed ever so slightly where he stood. 

“Take her to your floor, Sergeant,” Steve ordered. 

The man blinked, and looked down, as if noticing the whining omega that was doing her best vampire impression on his neck and chest for the first time. 

“Elevator, Bucky. NOW.” 

Bucky looked back up at Steve, looking lost. “Real?” he asked, gently hugging her close. 

Steve’s heart broke a little. “She’s real, Buck,” he said gently. 

“Right,” Bucky said, as if trying to convince himself. “Right...” He took a breath, clearly struggling at centering himself, then with a few quick movements, juggled the omega over his shoulder. 

She squawked again. “Settle,” he rumbled, and smacked her rear. 

She did settle, but Steve could tell by the pitch of her groan that his smack probably did not have the effect he’d been going for. 

Bucky made it the elevator. He kept a firm grip on her even when he stumbled a bit, as if drunk. A moment later, Steve understood why- the overwhelming scent of peaches and cream- her heat scent no doubt- filled the air. Mixed with Bucky’s rut musk, it made Steve cough and cover his nose. 

“Jarvis-” Steve coughed again, “Air out the elevator. Jesus Christ...” he muttered and threw open the doors to the landing pad to let some fresh air in. 

“I will alert the cleaning staff to bring some fans in, Captain,” Jarvis said from the ceiling. 

“Do that,” he said, and shuddered. 

A thought occurred to him, and he cautiously sniffed his clothes. He didn’t think he smelled... but he should take a shower before he joined Tony in bed. Going in smelling like another omega’s heat... yeah. How had Peter put it the other day? “No thanks, I choose life.” 

He grabbed the Gatorade and took the stairs. 

After the world’s fastest shower with special de-stink soap, he snuck a peek into the master bedroom- to find Tony still sleeping soundly. 

He breathed a sigh of relief and dug out his phone from a pile of clothes on the floor. He dialed Nat first. 

“I’m getting a tranq,” she said, her voice flat. “I’m 3 minutes out.” 

“Stand down.”

“What?” 

“They’re fated. She’s fine.” 

“Fuck you,  _ what _ ?” 

“She was in heat before they hit the elevator,” he said. Now that no one was in immediate danger of being beaten to death with their own limbs by a horny super alpha, the situation was almost funny. 

There was a strained silence on the other end of the line. 

“Peaches?” she asked after a moment. 

Steve frowned. It took a moment for him to realize what she was asking. How the fuck- 

“With cream.” 

“Huh. Clint owes me 50 dollars then,” she said, annoyingly smug. 

Steve sighed. He didn’t even want to know, honestly. 

“I’ll keep the beta on my floor. Go take care of Tony,” she said, then she hung up on him. 

He dialed Sam next. 

“Wazzup?” 

“Call Coulson. Tell him I’m taking us officially off the roster for two weeks.” 

“What the hell happened?” Sam demanded, alarmed. 

“Bucky’s rut finally hit, and Tony’s in heat. We’re in no shape to defend anyone from circus clowns, nevermind aliens,” Steve said grimly. “I want the Avengers floors locked down.” 

“You need a hand corralling Bucky?” 

“Nah. He found his mate.” 

“Are you fucking with me right now?” 

“Some sort of brunette. Curvy. Smells like peaches.” 

Silence. “Was she wearing a red polka dot dress?” 

“Yeah, she was,” Steve wondered how Sam knew... 

“Oh  _ come on _ ! I was going to ask her out!” Sam complained. “That’s just typical, that’s what that is!” he bitched. 

Steve snorted a laugh. “Really?” 

“YES! White men steal  _ all _ the best women, I swear to god-” Sam grumbled, then sighed. “Go take care of your omega man. I got this.” 

“Remember they don’t know-” 

“Yeah yeah. It’s a shame that you and Bucky are so close your ruts synced,” Sam said, full of shit. “And that Peter is having a bad reaction to an over the counter medication. Something something spider DNA, rare complications etc, and all that jazz.” 

Steve relaxed. If anyone could bullshit Coulson with a straight face, it would be Sam. 

“Thanks, man,” Steve said, and meant it. 

“No problem,” Sam said, then hung up on him. 

Steve looked at his phone with amused irritation. What was it about this pack that made them all hang up on each other without so much as a “good bye”?

He stood there for a moment, mentally going over things in his head. Was there anything else he needed to take care of? He couldn’t think of anything. 

“Jarvis, initiate Vacation Mode,” he said. 

“Vacation Mode activated,” Jarvis said. 

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Vacation Mode meant that the elevator was locked, all the cameras in the penthouse were turned off, and all calls to either of their cellphones were redirected. 

Now it was just him and Tony.

_ Just like it should be.  _

He tossed his phone... no wait. There wasn’t really anything left for him to put it on. He and Tony had effectively gutted the place, leaving a hefty pile on the landing pad. He absently wondered what the tabloids would say about it. It really was a large pile... 

Whatever. He let the phone fall back into the pile of clothes. The mess outside would be easier to haul away after Tony burned it. Steve didn’t think for a minute that a burn pile was legal in downtown Manhattan, but that’s what Tony’s lawyers and stupid amounts of money were for. 

He wandered over the bedroom, and leaned against the doorway, enjoying the sight of his mate. 

Tony was passed out naked in bed piled high with blankets and pillows, curled around the biggest, softest, and fluffiest teddy bear Steve had ever seen. God only knows where Nat had found it, but it had quickly become Tony’s favorite thing (after Steve’s dick) during his heats. It was big enough to use as a full body pillow and soft enough that it felt like heaven even on non-heat-sensitive skin. 

Tony snored, and Steve was fairly sure his omega was drooling a little. 

It was so fucking adorable he thought his heart would burst. 

It was a stark contrast to how he’d found Tony the first time he’d been invited to join Tony’s heat... 

*****

“Captain. I have been requested to inform you that Sir has started his vacation,” Jarvis said from the ceiling. 

Steve looked up from his book, and frowned. Vacation? 

Oh, right. Tony didn’t call them heats. The clever little omega had fooled pretty much the entire world, including him. Or at least, he had until he’d abruptly asked Steve for help. In the few days since Steve had kept an eye on him- and found that many things that had puzzled and amused him about the man suddenly made sense through the lens of his new knowledge. 

His legendary fickleness. The seemingly endless supply of new suits and shoes. The dramatics. Now that he knew what to look for, he’d found the man to embody almost every stereotype possible of an omega he’d ever heard of- and somehow everyone just passed it off as him being “eccentric.” Steve still wasn’t sure how he’d pulled it off. Sure, he’d never heard of a male omega, but once you accepted the possibility, it was so fucking obvious it was ridiculous. 

The only thing the man was missing was ridiculously long fake nails painted bright pink and a pair of matching high heels. 

His brain shorted out for a moment at that thought- Tony in high heels. If anyone could pull it off, it would be Tony. 

“Captain?” Jarvis prompted politely. 

“Ah- tell him I’ll be up shortly,” he said. There was no need to appear to be, well- eager. The man had asked for assistance, not begged to be knotted. He probably only needed to be checked on and resupply runs done for his nutrition bars and drinks. 

Probably. Maybe-

No. It would be wrong to assume otherwise. Besides it wasn’t like it was the first time he’d ever done such a thing for an omega in heat. Half the chorus girls on the Tour had synced up and Steve and half the stage crew had found themselves Drafted For the Cause. Plus, ya know- his Ma. 

Right. It was settled then. He’d pop in, check on him and leave. 

It was the right thing to do. 

20 minutes later found him in the elevator heading for the penthouse. The minute the doors opened, the most mouth-watering scent of baked cinnamon apples smacked him in the face. Had the man gotten catering or something? 

A second later, he heard it- and it wasn’t the sound he’d been expecting from an omega in heat. 

It was a small, heartbroken sob. 

Now alarmed, he checked the master bedroom and was confused to find it empty. What the hell- 

“Jarvis, where’s Tony?” he demanded. 

“Sir is in his heat room,” Jarvis said calmly. “It is the last door on your left.” 

Frowning, he left the master and followed Jarvis’ directions. He opened the last door on the left. 

For a second he found it impossible to breathe. 

For one thing, it was now obvious that Tony was the source of that incredible smell- and second the scene before him made his heart utterly break. 

The man was curled up on a tiny twin mattress, softly crying. It looked like he was laying on some sort of rubber sheets- which had to be hell on his sensitive skin. And he only had a couple of thread bare blankets around him. 

What the fuck. 

What the FUCK. 

There was a standing floor lamp that was far too bright and harsh. And the pillow on the bed was the saddest, flattest thing he’d ever seen. There was a pile of gatorade bottles and granola bars within reach of the bed. Other than that, the room was bare. Worst of all, the room was filled with the stench of complete and utter omega misery. 

WHAT THE FUCK. 

He stood there, staring. Jesus Christ- omegas in sanitariums in the 1900s had better conditions than this. 

He carefully closed the door, and went back to the main room, and stared at a wall until his thoughts stopped racing and he wasn’t in danger of screaming at something. 

He pulled out his phone, and called Natasha. 

“Penthouse. NOW,” he snarled with ill disguised fury before she could even so much as say ‘hello’. 

“Steve? What-”

He hung up on her, and started pacing. 

She was coming out of the elevator in less than five minutes. She looked a bit out of breath.  “Did you know about this?” he demanded. 

She blinked. Inhaled.

“Oh, his heat started.” 

“So you knew about this?” he continued, his tone dangerous. 

She gave him a Look. “It’s his life Steve. You don’t have to tell anyone your status now. It’s a thing. It’s normal-”

“I want you go in there and look at him- then come back here and look me in the eye and tell me that that is normal,” Steve demanded, pointing at the door.  She frowned. It was taboo to enter a heat room without being invited. “Steve-” 

“NOW,” he used a hint of his alpha command. 

She flinched, eyes wide. Steve had never used his alpha voice on her before. 

“Okay... calm down. I’m going,” she said carefully, then walked to the door Steve had indicated. She opened it, and looked inside. She stood there for a long minute, taking it in before she gently closed it again. 

When she came back, she looked rattled. “I had no idea,” she said. “I don’t understand. His mother was an omega-” she trailed off. By the look on her face she made a connection that she wasn’t happy about. “And his father was a piece of shit alpha,” she finished softly. She looked sick. 

“I can’t... I can’t leave him like that-” Steve said, upset. It was hard for him to keep his voice down. He didn’t want to distress Tony any more than he was already. “Has he always done it like that?” he demanded. “How the hell did Pepper let this go on like this?” 

“She’s a beta-” 

Steve gave Natasha a Look. “That- that is NOT an excuse-” 

“Maybe she doesn’t know its not supposed to be like that. If Tony insisted... if that’s all that he’s known-” 

Steve shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t care right now. We need to  _ fix _ this, Natasha-” 

She considered. “I’ll get some supplies. I’ll be back in 30. There’s blankets in the linen closet in the common room. You can steal some from there in the meantime.” 

10 minutes later, Steve had set up the master bedroom the best he could with stolen blankets. They weren’t the softest things in the world, but they’d have to do. He fluffed the pillows one last time. 

Now to get Tony. 

The omega was still in bed, crying quietly and smelling absolutely miserable. 

“Hey there big guy-” Steve cooed gently. “Let’s get you to bed-” 

“Steve?” Tony whimpered. 

“I’ve got you, come here-” Steve gathered him up in his arms. 

“Steve-” Tony fussed. 

“Shh... it’s okay. I’m here now,” Steve said, and stood up, bringing Tony with him. They were halfway out the door before Tony realized that he was being moved and started to freak out. 

“No! NO!” he protested, trying to get out Steve’s grip. Omegas hated being moved once their heat started. The further they got from the room, the more the omega panicked and fought to be free of Steve’s grip. 

“Settle,” Steve ordered, using his Voice, and held him tight. 

Tony stilled, but his eyes were wide with fear and tears leaked down his face. He panted with stress. 

Steve carefully placed Tony in bed, and laid down next to him, holding him close. 

“Shh...” Steve said. He tried to concentrate on projecting safety and comfort instead of the horrible rage that he actually felt inside. 

Tony moaned, and clung to him. 

“I’ve got you,” Steve murmured. “I got you.” He ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. 

“Steve-” 

“Shh... Sleep.” Steve said. “You’re safe now. Rest.” 

Tony whined, clearly exhausted. 

“Shh....” 

He was out like a light in less than 5 minutes. 

Natasha showed up after a while with Clint trailing behind her, both loaded down with bags. 

“How’s he doing?” she asked. 

“Exhausted,” Steve said. 

They started dumping stuff out- mostly pillows and blankets, what looked like the entire linen inventory of a Macy's and a giant fucking teddy bear. 

“Get him and we’ll change the sheets,” Clint said. 

Steve carefully got out of bed and picked him up. He held him as Natasha and Clint stripped the bed and put on a rubber protector followed by soft pad, and then a sheet set that boasted “Heat Tested, Omega Approved” on the label. 

“You knew he was an omega?” Steve asked. 

Clint snorted. “Not until 30 minutes ago,” he said cheerfully. “Learn something new every day.”

Steve huffed. “Get the bars and water in here,” he said, settling Tony back onto the bed. 

Clint made quick work of it, but by the end of it, he looked grim. “What the fuck is that room even for?” he demanded. 

“That was his heat room,” Natasha said. 

“Are you serious?” Clint demanded. “What the hell-” 

“Shh-” Steve scolded. “You’ll wake him.” 

“I mean... I’ve slept in worse places myself, but I thought that he’d have like... at least a million sex toys or something. Dude doesn’t even have a vibrator.  _ I _ have a vibrator. What the hell kind of billionaire omega doesn’t even have like a sex dungeon -” 

Natasha smacked him upside the head. “Get out already,” she hissed. “You’re lucky I even let you up here. No betas in the heat room.” 

Huffing and grumbling, Clint left. 

Natasha waited until he left, then dug out another bag and upended it into a plastic bin. A wide selection of sex toys still in their boxes fell out. 

Steve stared at the boxes and what they implied made him feel sick. The thought of Tony, alone and desperate, using those...  _ things _ on himself in a bid to find relief... it made him want to punch something. It wasn't fucking acceptable that he experiance that.

"Get rid of those," he said. 

Nat gave him a Look. "He's going to need them Steve," she said and stared at him for almost a moment too long. "Unless... you're volunteering." 

Steve startled. "What? I can't. He... he can't consent once he's this deep, Natasha." 

"He talked to me a few days ago. He was hoping you would." 

Steve blinked. "What?" 

"I thought you were smarter than this Rogers. He, an omega, asked you, an alpha, to help him with his heat. Should I make you an engraved invitation?" 

Steve looked down at Tony, who even in sleep had his face tight with discomfort. He gently ran his fingers through his hair. The omega stirred, whimpering. 

"Alpha?" Tony whined quietly. 

Steve Decided. 

"Get out," Steve barked, and peeled his shirt off. 

Natasha flashed him a cheshire cat smile and moved to leave- only to pause in the doorway. 

"He's never been with an alpha before," she said quietly. "Be gentle with him." 

Steve nodded and shucked off his jeans. "OUT Nat." 

She left, and Steve settled into bed next to Tony. The omega immediately clung to him. 

"Alpha- Alpha please-" Tony begged. 

"I've got you baby," Steve said, and kissed him. He knew in that moment, down to his very bones, that he would make Tony his, and his alone. 

A week later when they'd finally emerged in the common room with a blushing Tony trying his best to not look over the moon with his new bonding bite, Steve pretended that he didn’t notice Clint wordlessly handing Natasha a hundred dollar bill. 

Sometimes it was better not to ask. 

****

"Steeeve-" Tony whined. "I need you..." The man hadn’t even moved from his spot, the spoiled brat. 

Steve smiled and slid into bed. “I know baby. I’m here,” he said gently, kissing his beloved’s neck. He would always be there for him. His Tony would never be alone again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I don’t hate Pepper. She’s a beta, raised by betas, who had no interest in omegas until Tony fell into her lap. In her defense, Tony is a stubborn bastard. And “But I’ve always done it that way” or “What do you mean that’s not normal?” are sayings that has often brought horror to people who are friends with people who’ve been raised in an abusive/neglectful homes. 
> 
> And it can be hard to push friends to change- and Pepper did try in her own way. She dragged him to therapy that he walked out on, got him healthy meals he threw out- she alone is not to blame for this. 
> 
> Second, some of you are saying to yourself: “Wait... Bucky doesn’t like omegas that smell like peaches... it said so like... in that one chapter with the stupid dinosaur title.” You’re right! I did write that!
> 
> Well. I can tell you that when you go to the fabric store to look for something blue and find around 100 different blue things that are all just the slightly WRONG shade (or in the wrong fabric entirely)... it’s frustrating. Irritating even. And after visiting 3 different stores and still finding nothing, you start contemplating flipping tables and your right eye gets like this twitch whenever you see blue fabric. Because you hope, and look closer, and then get your hopes dashed every single fucking time because it’s never exactly what you’re looking for. So when you DO find that perfect thing... you throw a god damned parade. (or in my case, I said “fuck it” and just dyed white fabric the color I wanted.) /rant. 
> 
> So yeah. It’s kinda like that. But like, subconsciously.


	22. Aftermath/ The One With Peter In It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters are getting longer and longer- and I have no idea why. 
> 
> Tags:  
Puberty, pregnancy scare

Peter groaned. His head felt like was stuffed with cotton. And he was so fucking  _ thirsty _ \- he pried an eye open, and spotted a water bottle. With trembling hands, he got the thing open and chugged it in one go. 

Where the fuck was he? The room didn’t look familiar- wait. Had he been kidnapped? 

And why the fuck was everything in pieces all over the floor? The remains of what looked like a mattress littered the floor. Several feather pillows had been savagely disemboweled and their remains scattered. 

But most importantly- why the everloving fuck was he STICKY? And... naked? He rubbed at his legs, only to find he was covered in dried... something... as well as feathers, bits of blankets, and god knows what else... 

Oh god... had he been kidnapped by sex perverts? 

He couldn’t think of what kind of sex pervert had a thing for feathers but he had a sinking feeling it was probably A Thing somewhere on the internet. 

He sniffed miserably. Frowned. Sniffed again. Why the hell did it smell like a Cinnabon stand in here? And... there was some sort of scent he couldn’t quite identify. He wrinkled his nose with disgust. Jesus, he needed to get out of here. 

Fuck it. He was Spider-Man. He should be able to take on weird sex perverts no problem, right? 

He found the door and banged on it. “Let me out!” he demanded. 

“Not until you’re sane kid,” someone said over an intercom set into the ceiling, clearly bored. 

Peter blinked. Wait... he knew that voice. 

“CLINT?” he demanded. “Let me out!” 

“What’s the password?” Clint replied. 

What the hell? “Clint? Let me out-” Peter complained. This made no sense. Clint had a thing for practical jokes, but this- this was just too weird. 

“Not the password,” Clint said, still bored. 

What was happening? None of this made sense... he felt on the verge of tears. 

“Clint... please? I’m- I’m scared,” Peter begged. 

A second later, a lock clicked open, and the door swung open. A suspicious Clint was there, holding a blanket. 

“You with me kid?” he demanded. 

“Where are we?” Peter demanded back, frightened and confused. 

Clint relaxed, and shoved the blanket at Peter. “Relax. You’re at the tower. You had one hell of a heat.” 

Peter hastily wrapped himself up in the blanket. “What?” 

“Congrats on being a man or whatever,” Clint said, and ruffled his sweaty hair. “Lets go get you in a shower, yeah? Then we can call your Aunt.” 

A baffled Peter allowed himself to be led down a hallway and into some sort of communal shower area. 

“Soap and shampoo are in dispensers on the walls,” Clint said. “I’ll go get you some clothes.” 

It took a while, and the scent of the soap made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, but eventually he got the last of the stickiness off. He did his level best to not think about how the worst of it was in and around his ass crack. And he’d been in heat. Which meant the stickiness was slick. Which meant he had had slick coming out of... Nope. Not thinking about it. Definitely not a thing that was happening to him. 

NOPE. 

He was exhausted by the time he was done, and he emerged on shaky legs. Clint was waiting for him with a towel and a change of clothes. “Change over there,” he said, pointing to a curtained off area. 

Peter managed the underwear. The jeans... the jeans felt oddly constricting for some reason. He didn’t even attempt the shirt. He recognized it as one from his closet at home, but he could hardly bring himself to touch it. It was far too scratchy and rough. 

He opted for wrapping the blanket around himself and leaving the jeans unbuttoned- which was marginally better. 

“Come on, kid. I’m supposed to take you to the doctor,” Clint said. Thankfully he didn’t comment on his clothing choices. 

By the time they got to the part of the floor that had exam rooms (they must be somewhere on the MedBay floor, he realized), Peter barely had the strength to collapse onto the nearest gurney. He was to-his-bones exhausted, and for some reason felt like he was about to cry. 

“I’ll go get the doctor. Stay put,” Clint said, then vanished. 

The sheets on the gurney weren’t helping, and must have been made by some sort of evil sandpaper company, Peter thought distantly. There was no other way to explain it. He put as much of the blanket between himself and the bed as possible. Maybe he could take a nap? That sounded like a good idea. 

He blinked, and suddenly there were people in the room. 

“Hey Peter. You awake, buddy?” a female voice was asking him gently. 

“Hmm?” he asked, blinking and wincing in the bright light of the exam room. 

“Jarvis, dim the lights 20% please,” the voice said. It sounded kind. 

The lights dimmed and he found he didn’t have to squint so much. “What?” 

“It’s alright Peter. You’re safe. I’m just going to set up an IV and get some fluids in you, and draw some blood, okay?” 

Peter hummed. 

“Is this normal?” someone- Clint- asked. 

“Very. He’ll sleep it off, and will be back to bouncing off the walls probably sometime tomorrow,” the woman said. She sounded amused. 

Peter felt a small prick, and the cool drip of an IV, then passed the fuck out. 

*****

Tony sighed and squirmed a bit to get into a better position. He was in his favorite spot- squished nicely between his alpha and his bear. His movements roused his mate, who kissed the back of his neck gently. He distantly felt as the alpha gently ran his fingers down Tony’s chest, then his stomach, then-

“If you touch my dick I will _ laser _ your hand off,” Tony grumbled. He was SORE, damnit. It was a good kind of sore, but still- no touching allowed. 

The hand froze. 

“Tony?” 

“Shut up and cuddle me,” Tony groused. 

His mate huffed in amusement, and Tony could feel his hair move with his breath. “Yes dear,” the alpha said wisely, and kissed the back of his neck again. The treacherous wandering hand was moved back to his chest. 

“Welcome back baby,” Steve said softly. 

“Fuck off,” Tony said. 

“But then I won’t get to cuddle you,” Steve pointed out. 

Damn the man and his logic. Tony grumbled and huffed on general principal. 

“Go back to sleep baby,” Steve said gently. “I’ve got you.” 

“Fuck you,” Tony mumbled, not meaning a word of it, then fell asleep again. 

****

Bucky woke up to a faceful of long hair. He spat a few strands out of his mouth, and took a moment to reorient himself. The back of a warm curvy body snuggled up to his front was a nice surprise... then a whiff of peaches hit his nose. 

MATE. 

Oh, right. He was mated now. (Sweet Jesus, how the hell had he managed THAT?) He moved her hair out of the way, and checked the new mating bite on her neck. It had scabbed over, but still looked red. He was carefully cleaning it with his tongue when she stirred. 

He froze for a second. 

“Don’ stop. Feels good,” she mumbled. 

He started up again. She reached back and gently ran her fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp with her nails. 

He rumbled with happiness. Was this heaven? It felt like heaven. He’d never expected to go, honestly, but here he was all the same. 

She leaned back against him and softly giggled. “Like that, do you?” 

He hummed in agreement, then laid there for a while, nose buried in her neck, enjoying her scent and warmth. He tried to engrave this moment in his memory. He never wanted to forget this. 

“Soo...” Darcy said, “Just so you know, the future of this relationship is going to hinge largely on how awesome your bathtub is.” 

For a split second, he thought she was serious, and nearly had a heart attack. Then he recognized her teasing tone, and relaxed and snorted. So it was going to be like that, huh?

“Mine has jets,” he told her smugly. 

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, eyes wide. “It’s a jacuzzi?” she demanded. 

“Yep. TV on the wall too,” he said, grinning. 

She wiggled onto her back and held out her arms. “Well?” she demanded when he didn’t do anything. 

“What?”

“Are you going to carry me or not?” she complained. 

“What, your legs broke, baby?” he teased.

“YES. You should know. You broke them. Plus what’s the point of having a big strong alpha if they don’t carry you places? Come on!” she whined. 

He snorted, pretending that her compliment didn’t make his brain buzz, and gathered her up carefully. “You’re a handful, you know that doll?” he sassed. 

“Fuck yeah I am,” Darcy agreed. “And you know you like it.” 

He laughed all the way to the bathroom. 

*****

The next time Tony woke up, he felt more like a human being. He took in a deep breath, and grunted in displeasure as he got a giant nose full of well... the special kind of stink you get when two people spend several days in bed not showering and fucking each other’s brains out. He shoved Steve, who hummed in question. 

“Get up,” he bitched. 

Steve grumbled. 

“It smells like a brothel in here,” he complained.

“How do you know what a brothel smells like?” Steve sassed, still half-asleep. 

Tony huffed, then got up and stumbled over to a window, threw the curtains back and after a bit of cursing, got the damn thing open. 

Steve groaned a complaint from the bed at the sudden brightness of the room.  “Shut up and change the sheets, you big baby,” Tony said, callously. “You’re the one who gets up at 3am to go running,” he huffed. “So stop complaining.” 

Steve threw a pillow at him, which missed. Tony ignored him, and headed for the bathroom. Jesus Christ, he needed a shower. 

“What the fuck time is it J?” Tony demanded as he threw open his medicine cabinet and got out his scent blocker pills. 

“It is 9 am,” Jarvis said serenely. “This is your reminder to take your birth control shot today.” 

Tony froze, pill halfway to his mouth. 

“Say... say that again?” he demanded, heart racing, eyes fixed on that tiny stupid bottle on the medicine cabinet shelf. 

“This is your reminder to take your birth control shot, sir. For your vacation.” 

“Right,” Tony said, amazed at how even and level his voice was. His birth control shot. Right. 

**FUCK. **

Breathe. Breathing was something he should be doing right now. He was fine. Everything was fine. Don’t be stupid. He wasn’t pregnant. Of course not. Couldn’t be. He was ... male. And hormones. And... and... whatever. The shot was just a safety net really. Peace of mind and all that. 

He stared at a wall, thoughts racing. He wasn’t pregnant. Nope. 

But...

“How... how soon can the test things... how do pregnancy tests work? Just for, you know...” he trailed off. “Science and things...” 

“Tests can detect pregnancy as soon as two weeks after a heat has ended,” Jarvis said. “But it is recommended you wait three weeks for accurate results.” 

Tony’s eyes widened. “THREE WEEKS?” he demanded, his voice going into a register he didn’t even know he was capable of reaching. What the fuck? What the absolute stupid fucking fuck...

There was a knock on the door that nearly made Tony jump out of his skin.

“You okay in there baby?” Steve asked through the door. 

FUCK. 

“What- no- I’m fine!” Tony said. “Just... something with the company,” he lied. Badly. 

He could feel Steve’s disbelieving stare even through the door. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just... emails pissing me off,” he said. It sounded more reasonable. 

“Okay,” Steve said cautiously. “If you need anything-” 

“Yeah, I’ll call you,” Tony agreed easily. Too easily. God damnit. He froze, and waited for Steve question it. 

Steve hesitated outside the bathroom door for a moment before walking away. 

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. 

Right. Everything was fine. It was. He just would live his life as normal and- 

He froze again with the scent blocking pill halfway to his mouth. 

"Jarvis?" 

"Yes sir?" 

"Would scent blockers hurt a ba- a fetus?" He asked softly. 

Not that it mattered. Because he wasn’t pregnant. 

"Scent blockers are not contraindicated, no." 

Tony tried to make his brain work. He was smart damnit. He knew words... He gave up. It was too early for this shit. 

"Can I take the fucking pill or not?" He demanded. 

"It is not recommended but nothing says it would harm a fetus, sir." 

"What the hell does that mean- not recommended?" Tony demanded, feeling more exasperated by the moment. 

"Scent souring is often the first sign of pregnancy complications," Jarvis said. "Eliminating scent deprives doctors of critical health information." 

Well, if that was all. He was all for denying doctors stuff.

He eyed his medicine cabinet. “What about suppressants?” he asked. 

“According the American Medical Association, an omega should discontinue use of suppressants at the first sign or suspicion of pregnancy.” 

He stared intently at a wall. It was recommended that omegas take a break from suppressants every now and again, right? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. 

Maybe... maybe he should do that. He could start today. 

Yeah. That... that sounded like a good idea. 

He took the scent blocker pill, and closed the cabinet. Right. Pretend to be normal. Actually, he didn’t even need to pretend because everything WAS normal. There was absolutely nothing wrong. 

Right....

FUCK. 

**********

Peter sat at the kitchen island in the common room eating some cheerios. Never in his life did he think cheerios would taste this good but after days of bars, it was like eating manna from heaven. 

Clint made a show of checking the cheerio box. 

"What?" Peter demanded. 

"Just checking to see if they added crack or something," he teased. "Never seen someone so happy to eat cheerios." 

Peter rolled his eyes. 

"HE LIVES!" an excited voice boomed from the elevators. 

Peter barely had time to turn around before he was nearly knocked off his barstool by an ecstatic Tony who hugged him like Peter was newly returned from the dead. 

"Toony-" Peter whined. The man was squeezing too hard. He could feel his bloated stomach protest. 

Tony ignored him and shamelessly buried his face into Peter's neck before inhaling deeply. "And you've got your scent!" He babbled happily. 

Peter wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear. 

"Tony-" he protested. 

"He got his scent?" Steve sounded way too excited about that. 

"He did!" Tony inhaled again. "Fresh baked cinnamon rolls..." he purred, for some reason sounding proud. "Good job kid. Knew you wouldn't be something boring like pears or bananas." He ruffled Peter's hair. 

Peter suddenly had had enough. "Get off!" he snarled, and shoved him. 

Tony wound up on his ass on the floor several feet away, his eyes wide. Peter felt horrified. 

“Peter-” Steve barked. Peter turned, and looked at a shocked Steve. Felt his horror turned into terror. 

Peter burst into tears. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he sobbed. 

“Peter we’ve talked about this-” Steve rumbled, scolding, and took a step forward. 

Clint stepped neatly between them. 

“Hey. He said he’s sorry,” he said softly. “He’s just a pup, man.” 

Peter shamelessly cowered behind Clint, worriedly peeking around him to watch the alpha’s reaction. 

Steve took a breath. Let it out, then helped a clearly shaken Tony to his feet. 

“I’m okay-” Tony protested as Steve checked him over. “I’m okay,” he insisted. “Just... surprised.” 

“Go sit on the couch and I’ll make you something,” Steve said, and kissed him on the forehead. 

“Steve-” Tony protested. 

“Couch. Now.” 

Tony went, but it was clear he was unhappy about it. 

Steve turned his attention back to Peter, and Clint stood his ground, fearlessly staring his pack leader down. 

“He didn’t mean it-” Clint said.

“I know. Stand aside,” Steve commanded. 

Clint studied his face, then reluctantly moved. 

Peter couldn’t stop the anxious whine that escaped his throat as he hunched in on himself. “I’m sorry-” he cried, his eyes on the floor. 

Steve sighed. “I know,” he said gently. “But you  _ have _ to watch yourself Peter. You have super strength. You could have really hurt Tony.” 

“I’m sorry-” Peter said quietly, sniffing miserably. 

“Don’t do it again,” Steve said firmly. 

“Yes alpha,” Peter said meekly, eyes still on the floor. 

Steve studied Peter and sighed. “Go give Tony a hug and tell him you’re sorry,” Steve said finally. 

Grateful that was all, Peter fled. Tony was waiting for him on the couch, arms wide. 

“Come here,” Tony said, and Peter sank into the omega’s arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

“It’s alright, kiddo. I was an ass,” Tony said softly. “You just scared me a little, that’s all.” 

The elevator slid open, and Sam emerged. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, sniffing the air. 

“Everyone’s extra hormonal today,” Clint said wearily. 

“You guys okay?” he demanded, looking at Tony. 

“We’re fine. Just... a little misunderstanding with some super strength,” Tony said. “No one’s hurt.” 

Sam eyed them skeptically for a moment, before turning and going into the kitchen. “Jesus, man,” he complained. “I can’t leave you people alone for a minute without there being some sort of drama.” 

“Why did you think I asked you to stay?” Steve teased. 

Sam snorted, and dug out some eggs from the fridge. 

The elevator slid open again, and Natasha emerged. She frowned. “Tony?” 

He waved a hand. “It’s fine,” he said dismissively. 

She considered Peter, then spotted Sam. “You might as well make all of those,” she said. “I think I spotted Bruce on my way over.” She took a spot at Peter’s feet and quietly placed his feet in her lap, and put a hand on his leg. 

Peter sighed. It was oddly comforting, laying like this while he listened to the guys make breakfast- his feet in a lap and his face on Tony’s chest. 

A few minutes later, her prediction proved to be right as Bruce stepped out of the elevator. 

“Brucie Bear!” Tony beamed. “Long time no see!” 

Bruce smiled. “Heard the vacation was over,” he said mildly. “Came to check up on you.” 

“We’re making breakfast- you want anything?” Sam asked from the kitchen. 

“Those eggs smell good,” he said. “And I wouldn’t say no to some coffee. And before I forget- you’re Aunt is coming in today Peter. We’re ready to look over some test results with Doctor Cho with her.” 

Peter frowned. “Test results?” 

“Don’t worry about it Pete. You got a bit sick before your heat- remember? Steve and I will sit in, make sure that everything’s like it should be,” Tony said. 

Peter frowned. “I was sick?” he asked. 

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair. “Don’t worry. I don’t really remember my first and second heats very well either,” he said. 

“Neither do I,” Natasha said. “It’s for the best, really,” she patted his leg. “The third one is always much better than the first two.” 

Bruce nodded. “That’s very normal - or so I’ve been told,” he said, then snorted with amusement. “I swear I’ve learned more about omegas in this last week than I ever did in my rotations in medical school,” he complained good naturedly. “You lot are complicated creatures!” 

The elevator door opened again, and Bucky and some lady Peter had never seen before wearing oversized sweats stepped out. 

A series of cheers and wolf whistles filled the room- mostly from the alphas in the kitchen.

“If she’s still walking man, you didn’t do your job!” Clint ribbed from across the room. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah yeah,” he said. 

“Someone mind filling me in?” Tony demanded. “Why are  _ you _ here?” he asked the lady. “Don’t you have... rabbits to save or something?” 

Bucky frowned at Tony. “Watch how you talk about my mate, tin man,” he growled.

Peter stared at her neck with wide eyes- and yep. That was a fresh bond bite. 

“Bucky-” Steve barked a warning. “He didn’t know- he was on vacation. Why don’t you introduce her?” he said. His tone said it was more a command than a suggestion. 

“Everyone- this is Darcy,” Bucky announced. “She’s my mate,” he said proudly. The lady- Darcy- gave a little shy wave. 

“Like... hi guys,” she said. 

“Darcy- that’s Tony and Nat on the couch. Peter’s the little one-” 

Peter scowled at him. “I'm still growing!” he protested. Bucky ignored him. 

“Steve you probably know-” Steve gave a wave from the kitchen. “Sam’s cooking, that’s Bruce, and Clint’s the one stuffing his face.” 

Natasha patted an empty spot on the couch. “Come on. The alphas are in charge of breakfast today,” she said. 

Darcy hesitantly sat down, and Peter sat up, feeling weird about being so obviously clingy in front of a stranger. 

“Does this mean you’re in the pack now?” Peter asked her. 

She froze. “Pack?” she asked, clearly confused. 

“You’re Bucky’s mate. So... that makes you pack, right?” Peter asked, then blinked when his spider sense buzzed quietly. He suddenly became aware of the complete and utter silence in the room. 

He looked around and found everyone looking at Tony. Waiting. 

Tony huffed. “What?” he demanded. 

“Tony-” Steve said gently. There was a hint of warning there that Peter didn’t miss. 

“Fine. She can join the club,” Tony said. “Natasha need someone she can paint nails with or something anyway.” 

Natasha glared at Tony, who ignored her. 

“Don’t let him bother you,” Natasha said to Darcy. “His bark is much worse than his bite.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m still stuck on the pack thing?” 

“Steve’s the alpha- Bucky’s his second,” Peter said. “Tony’s the omega. Natasha is his second...” he trailed off. “Bruce and Clint are betas... they’re their own thing, I think.” 

“They’re under Sam. Who’s third under me,” Steve said, appearing with coffee mugs. Tony, Natasha and Darcy all got steaming cups. Peter excitedly took his- only to feel a deep sense of betrayal when he found it contained only apple juice instead of coffee like he wanted. Peter scowled at Steve, who ignored him. 

“So... the Avengers are a pack?” Darcy asked faintly. “Seriously?” 

Peter shrugged. 

“Wait. Tony’s an omega? Like, for real, for real?” she asked suspiciously. “Or is that like a rank thing?”

“Both,” Natasha said calmly. 

“No way! I thought male omegas were a myth- like unicorns and mermaids,” Darcy exclaimed. 

“It’s a secret-” Peter said seriously. “You can’t tell anyone.” 

She frowned at him. “Wait... you were the one who was sick. Right? You were in the medbay and I sat with you.” 

Peter frowned. “You did?” 

“She did,” Natasha said. “I called her in.” 

“Aww! I’m so glad you’re better!” she said. “I was seriously worried about you little dude!” she dragged him over into a hug, then just as abruptly dropped him. 

“Wait wait... you’re in the pack? I get the others. Steve, Iron Man... Black Widow... what are you?” 

“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter said. 

Darcy looked shocked. “But... you’re what- 12?” she protested. 

Peter bristled. “I’m almost 16!” he protested. 

“Hush,” Tony said. “Don’t rile him up. He’s had a hard week.” 

Darcy glanced at Tony. “I’m guessing I’m under Natasha because I’m an omega then?” 

“Yep,” Natasha said, popping the P. “You’ll do errands for me.” 

Darcy, who had initially looked thrilled to be under the famous Black Widow, wilted. 

“Aww... come on!” she protested. 

“If this wasn’t a War Pack, you’d be second under Tony,” Peter said. “Because of Bucky. But Nat comes first because... she’s, well... Nat.” 

Darcy sighed. “Yeah yeah. I get it. It’s fine. I’ve been the errand boy and scientist wrangler for forever now. Figures.” 

She drank her coffee, then paused in thought. “So... are you with Clint?” she asked. 

Peter frowned. “What?” 

“You’re in the pack, right? So where are you?” 

Peter hesitated. 

“He isn’t anywhere. He’s the pup,” Tony said. “He’s under everyone.” 

Peter turned wide eyes to Tony. “WHAT?” he demanded. “Since when?” 

“Since I said so,” Tony said imperiously. “And also since you’re not old enough to vote.” 

“But-” Peter whined, fully intending to argue this.

“Peter-” Steve called out a warning from the kitchen. “You’ll have a rank when you’re of age,” he said firmly. 

Peter sank into the sofa, sulking. It wasn’t fair, damn it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put a cut here because this chapter was becoming another “Neverending Chapter.” Don’t worry. Peter is going to be in the next one. Now that he’s awake we’re going to be seeing a lot of him. 
> 
> I’d also like to give a shoutout to TheStrange_One again. She spotted my foreshadowing for a plot point- specifically Tony’s current little conundrum. It always makes my heart soar a little when people spot the little clues/hints I deliberately put in. XD
> 
> This is also a reminder I read *EVERY SINGLE* comment ya'll leave me. I love to hear what you have to say!


	23. It’s Hard to Be a Gangster With a Basket on Your Bike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s lyrical title is from “Gangsta” by Bushwalla
> 
> Tags: Sickness, Peter Whump, with a heaping side helping of even more Peter Whump, puberty troubles, hurt/comfort
> 
> Poor Peter. He just can’t catch a break. There are some aspects to being an omega that just aren’t talked about- even among omegas. Peter’s about to find out about one of the bigger ones today... (In other words, let’s all watch Puberty burn Peter’s metaphorical house down. It’ll be fun!)

They ate breakfast at the large dining table. Bucky even made waffles, Peter noticed suspiciously. He made sure to snag at least 3 of them. 

He also noticed Bucky carefully preparing Darcy a plate- Steve followed suit for Tony. He watched with growing alarm as Bucky used his knife and fork, and took normal, human sized bites. Steve did the same. 

“Did someone replace you two with pod people while I was out?” he demanded. 

Bucky stopped staring at Darcy like she was a piece of cake to look at him. “What?” 

Peter swung his fork to indicate Bucky at large. “Especially you. What’s going on?” 

Bucky frowned at him. “What are you going on about?” 

“Natasha-” Peter whined. “Look at him.” 

“What about him?” she asked. 

Peter pointed his fork meaningfully at Bucky, who was currently chewing with his mouth closed. “THAT.” 

She considered Bucky. “It’ll last a week,” she said. “Tops.” 

“It’s  _ weird _ ,” he complained. 

Natasha nodded. “Yep.” 

Bucky stared at them for a moment, then scowled. “Shut up,” he snapped. 

“What?” Darcy demanded. 

“Peter is saying that it’s weird Bucky isn’t stuffing himself like a starving animal,” Clint said, because he was well out of range at the other end of the table. 

“I do not!” Bucky protested. 

Darcy shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ve eaten with Thor and his friends. That was an experience,” Darcy said. “Just so long as you don’t choke yourself.” 

Bucky flushed, then glared at Peter. “You’re going a bit slow,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be on your second plate by now?” 

Peter poked at his waffles. He’d gotten three bites in. Looking at them drenched with syrup was making him feel a bit sick, to be honest. 

“And don’t say that there’s something wrong with my waffles, because there ain’t.” 

Peter stared at the waffles. “I think... I think I’m gonna eat them later,” he said. 

The entire table stilled. Natasha got to him first since she was sitting next to him. She checked his forehead with the back of her hand. “He doesn’t feel warm,” she reported. 

“He had a bowl of cheerios earlier,” Clint volunteered, also concerned. 

“I’m not sick!” Peter protested, swatting her hand away. “I... I’m just tired.” 

“You sure you’re okay Pete?” Tony asked. 

“I’m fine. I... I just need to go lay down for a while,” Peter said quietly. He needed to change pants. The jeans he’d put on this morning when he woke up had been a bad idea. He still felt bloated from yesterday. Did he have sweatpants somewhere? 

“That’s fine, but Peter- if you start feeling hot, you need to call me right away,” Bruce said. “And your Aunt is supposed to be here in an hour.” 

Peter nodded, and started to gather up his plate. 

“Hey. I’ll take care of that,” Natasha said gently. “You go feel better, okay?” 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and headed for the elevator. 

“My room, Jarvis,” he said quietly in the elevator. 

“Of course, Young Master,” Jarvis said. “And may I say- it is a pleasure to see you out of the MedBay.” 

“Thanks Jarvis.” 

“Should you need anything I am always here,” the computer said as the doors slid open. 

Peter nodded, stepped out of the elevator and stripped off his pants. He immediately felt a little better. God, he hoped it wasn’t permanent. Aunt May had just bought him new jeans last month. 

A search of his drawers revealed a brand new pair of Stark Tech sweatpants that were a bit on the big side with a drawstring. Perfect. 

He put them on and got into bed. 

An hour later, he was even more miserable than when he’d first laid down. His stomach cramped horribly. Or was it his stomach? What were you supposed to call the... the lady bits anyway? Uter... Uterus or something? Whatever. 

“Young Master Peter, your Aunt has arrived,” Jarvis said. “You are being called to attend a meeting in the MedBay.” 

Peter groaned and heaved himself out of bed. Once he got there, a nurse spotted him and showed him to a small meeting room without windows for privacy. All the adults were already there- Doctor Banner, his Aunt, and Steve and Tony. A lady he’d never seen before was there as well- he guessed from her lab coat she was some sort of doctor. 

“Peter!” the new lady was the first to spot him. “So good to see you up and about!” 

Peter nodded shyly at her, and took a seat next between his Aunt and Tony. His Aunt gave him a hug as he sat down. 

“I came as soon as I could honey.” Aunt May said. “I’m so glad that you’re better.” she gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

Peter flushed. “Aunt May,” he protested. He wasn’t a baby- sheesh! She ignored him and ruffled his hair. 

“Welcome everyone. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m Doctor Cho. For now I’ll be Peter’s primary doctor. Peter- are you okay with everyone hearing about your medical information? I can kick anyone out and I promise there won’t be any hard feelings.” 

Peter shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said, just wanting this to be over with already. Maybe google would know how to deal with cramps? 

“Alright then. Once we got him off the suppressants, Peter had a fairly normal heat lasting around 4 days. His blood work both before and after the heat are mostly positive. My most pressing concern is his heart. I would like to schedule some testing as soon as possible to check him for heart defects.” 

Peter frowned. “I have something wrong with my heart?” he demanded, alarmed.

“Most likely. It’s part of being a male omega,” she said. “There are also some other concerns that go along with it- but those are not life threatening.” 

“I’d like a list of those, please,” Aunt May said. 

“Me too,” Tony said. 

“Of course. I’ll have a packet out to you two by the end of the day.” 

Peter turned and looked at Tony. “Is that why you have a pacemaker? Because you’re an omega?” 

Tony looked like Peter had just mooned the Nobel Committee. “I don’t have a pacemaker,” he said flatly. 

“But, I’ve seen the plans and the reactor is connected-” 

“This meeting is about you Peter. Not me.” Tony said firmly. “And your job to worry about you right now, okay?” Tony said and gave him a Look. 

_ Shit _ . The last time Tony had given him that look was right before Tony gave him the “we don’t discuss classified things in front of civilians/baddies” Talk. 

He flushed and faced the floor. “Yes Omega,” he said obediently. 

“How was his blood work?” Tony asked, dismissing him. “Does he still have that hormone imbalance?” 

“Yes. And it’s likely he’ll have it for a while. Between normal puberty and the reaction he had to the suppressants-” 

“I had a reaction to the suppressants?” Peter asked, bewildered. 

The adults shared a look. 

“Peter... why don’t you tell us what you remember?” Bruce asked gently. 

He considered. “I... went to school,” he said slowly. “And... everyone was acting weird. Ned said I smelled weird...” he frowned. “And then...” he trailed off. He remembered the guards and the counselor... 

“Hey- hey. You’re okay. You’re safe here, kiddo-” someone- Tony was saying. 

Peter blinked. When had he started panting? 

“I know it was scary- being by yourself. But we’re here now, okay baby?” Aunt May said, and squeezed his hand. 

Peter sniffed miserably. 

“Listen to my voice Peter. You’re in the Tower, okay? You’re safe. I’m right here behind you,” Steve said, and put a hand on his shoulder. Peter found himself relaxing at the alpha’s touch. Steve was his pack leader. He’d keep him safe. 

“I’m sorry-” Peter said. 

“Don’t be sorry Peter. Going into heat in a public place can be very traumatizing even for female omegas. It’s not your fault,” Dr. Cho said. 

Peter nodded shakily. 

“After you went into heat you had a bad reaction to the suppressants. It put you into a coma and gave you a high fever. The stress of the event also may have been what triggered your heart to stop for a few seconds.” 

Peter felt his blood turn to ice. “My... my heart stopped?” Steve immediately began to rub Peter’s shoulders, soothing him. 

“Yes, but not for very long. When we do the testing, we will also be checking for any heart damage.” 

“I have really fast healing though-” Peter protested. 

“Which is most likely why you are alive today,” Dr. Cho said. “Your ‘spider’ DNA is most likely why you survived your first heat. But we think it is also why you rejected the suppressant medication.” 

“Has Peter been sick at all since the bite?” Dr. Banner asked Aunt May. 

May considered. “Not that I can remember...” she said. 

Dr. Banner nodded. “No over the counter medication at all?” he asked Peter. 

Peter shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“Good. I’m going to have to recommend that Peter take absolutely no medication - not even a vitamin - without clearing it with me first. Until we get some further testing done, it just simply isn’t safe for him to take anything,” Dr. Banner said firmly. “Do you understand Peter? Not even Tylenol or aspirin.” 

“I understand,” Peter said. 

“Now, I don’t want to scare you, but I want to make sure you understand. If we have a repeat of this and you aren’t close to the tower, it could kill you, okay? So  _ no medication _ .” 

Peter nodded. “I got it,” he said quietly. 

“You got that Jarvis? Peter gets no medicine. At all. Speak up if he or someone else is about to mess up, category Priority 1,” Tony said. 

“Yes sir,” Jarvis said. “New Priority One Command has been entered and logged.” 

Tony nodded. “Jarvis will help keep an eye on him,” he said. 

They started to talk about hormone levels again after that. It was hard to keep track. He felt just awful and tired and... 

“Peter. Are you okay?” Aunt May asked. 

He blinked. “What?” 

“You don’t look so hot, honey,” she said, and put a hand to his forehead. She frowned. “He’s sweaty,” she announced, concerned. 

A new cramp hit him and he couldn’t hide a wince. 

“Peter?” Tony’s tone was alarmed. “Did you smell that?” he demanded. 

“He’s in pain,” Steve said, grim. “Peter- what’s wrong.” 

Peter flushed. “Just... cramps,” he said miserably. 

Tony frowned. “Your heat is over, kiddo. That shouldn’t be happening, right?” he demanded of the doctors. 

Dr. Cho shook her head. “Cramping is not unheard of, but... Peter? On a scale of 1 to 10, how you rate your pain?” 

Peter considered. “Five?” he guessed. 

People suddenly rushed into action. Peter found his chair rolled back from the table, and Dr. Banner kneeling in front of him. 

“Does it hurt all over or just in one spot?” he asked, and reached for Peter’s belly. 

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Peter screamed, smacking his hand away. 

There was shocked silence. “Don’t... don’t-” Peter sobbed. 

“It’s okay. I won’t touch you without your permission, okay?” Dr. Banner said slowly, his face screaming concern. “You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” 

Peter whined, and crossed his arms over his belly. He couldn’t bring himself to look him in the face. 

“Do you think it’s appendicitis?” Aunt May whispered behind him, horrified. “You just said no medication-” 

“Peter did you bleed at all today?” Dr. Cho asked. 

Peter shook his head. 

“What about when you went to the bathroom? Any blood then?” 

Peter shook his head. 

“Wait... wait...” Tony said. “Move over Jolly Green.” 

Tony took Dr. Banner’s place in front of Peter. 

“Look at me Peter. I mean it- Look at me.” 

Peter looked at him. Barely. 

“When was the last time you went?” he asked. 

Peter blinked. “What?” he whispered. 

“The bathroom kiddo. Have you gone since your heat ended?” 

Peter thought about it. Had he gone? Now that you mention it... 

SHIT. 

Tony correctly interpreted the look on Peter’s face. 

“Steve- we need to get him to a bathroom, NOW-” 

“On it,” Steve said, scooping him up. 

They didn’t make it. 

_ They didn’t make it. _

Steve had to hold a sobbing Peter up while Aunt May dragged soaking wet sweatpants and shoes off him. After they parked him on the toilet she gave him a kiss on the forehead, told him that she loved him, then they left to give him some privacy. 

It was awful. He’d thought that the night after he had those tacos from that shady cart vendor on 4th was bad, but he was wrong. So very, very wrong. 

First he cried because it hurt, damn it. 

Then he cried because it wouldn’t stop. 

Then he cried because it did stop. (And because he’d peed on Captain America). 

Then he cried because he felt so much better. (And because he’d peed on his pack leader). 

Then he cried because he couldn’t stop crying. (And also- Steve. How would he ever look at him again?) 

He was just starting to get angry about not being able to stop crying when someone knocked on the door. 

“It’s been half an hour Peter- are you okay?” Aunt May asked. 

“FUCK OFF!” he screamed, and because he didn’t have anything to throw, he smashed his hand into the wall. 

Then he cried because he was horrified at what he’d done and now his hand hurt. And also now there was a nice fist-shaped hole in the tile. 

And great. Now his hand was bleeding. Wonderful. And he couldn’t feel his legs. So now he was stuck here. For probably forever. Which, overall, might even be a good thing. He’d never have to look at Steve again, for one thing. 

“Peter!” Steve rumbled from outside the door, “You do NOT talk to your Aunt-” Steve stopped. “Get Banner- I smell blood-” he said urgently to someone outside. 

What? 

“Peter I’m coming in-” Steve said. 

Oh, god- please no! 

“No! I- I’m okay-” Peter protested. 

Steve didn’t listen. He opened the door and Peter sat cringing on the toilet, bleeding hand held against him. 

If God was merciful, Peter thought distantly, he’d just let him fall over and die right now. 

“Oh  _ Peter _ ,” Steve said- and oh god, he hadn’t thought it was possible for this day to get any worse, and yet there it just did. Steve Rogers - Captain America and his pack leader - was  _ disappointed _ in him. 

Peter sobbed. “Go away,” he said miserably. Why couldn’t these people just let him die in peace already? “Just go away!” 

Steve knelt in front of him. “Peter, I need to see your hand,” he said gently. 

“No!” 

“Peter-” Steve said firmly. 

Peter sniffed, then shamefully held out his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he tried. 

“We’ll have to do an X-ray,” Steve said, as he examined the hand carefully, then used some paper towels to get the bleeding to stop. 

Peter wiped his face with his good hand miserably, and only succeeded in smearing snot around. He whined with distress. Steve, being a good telepathic alpha, hushed him and gently cleaned his face with some tissues he got from the sink. “I’ve got you sweetheart,” he said softly. 

“Peter’s bleeding?” Banner said from the doorway. 

“He smashed his hand against the wall,” Steve said. “Cut it pretty good.” 

Banner joined Steve in the tiny bathroom, and snuck a peak at the cut under the towels. 

“He should stop bleeding in a minute. I don’t think he’ll need stitches,” he said. “Can you stand Peter? I’d like to get an x-ray.” 

Peter flushed, and stared at the ground. 

“Peter?” 

“My legs are all tingly,” he complained. 

Banner looked like he was trying really hard to not be amused. “It’s because you’ve been sitting for so long,” he paused. “Are you... are you done, Peter? Do you need more time?” 

“No. I... I’m done,” Peter said miserably. Jesus Christ. Would they just shoot him already? 

But the indignity didn’t end there. Steve helped him to his feet, and Peter nearly fainted- his legs gave out and if Steve had been any slower, he would have wound up on the floor. 

“Whoa- I’ve got you,” Steve said. “You okay Peter?” 

Peter whined with stress. 

“Talk to me Peter, did your vision turn grey a little there?” Banner asked. 

“Yes,” Peter said miserably. “What’s  _ wrong _ with me?”

Banner sighed. “I think you’re about to go into active distress,” he said grimly. “We need to hurry and get him cleaned up, then swaddled in something warm.” 

Tony ended up volunteering to help hose him down in a communal shower while Steve held him up and soothed him the best he could. Peter wound up swaddled in a giant blue blanket that he suspected was from the communal floor, and wedged between Bucky and Steve on a tiny hospital bed. 

“Shh...” Bucky murmured, running a hand through Peter’s hair. “You’re safe Peter.” 

Peter sighed. “I’m tired,” he bitched. “My hand hurts.” 

“Go to sleep Peter. We’ll get the X-ray later, okay?” Steve said. 

Peter whined. Would this nightmare of a day never  _ end _ ? 

“This isn’t working. Here. Shift him over-” Bucky said. They shuffled him so that his front was pressed against Bucky. Bucky rumbled. 

Peter gasped as he felt his body relax without any input from his brain. 

“That’s it - keep it up, Buck.” 

“Shh... go to sleep Pete. We’ve got you,” Bucky murmured. 

5 minutes later Peter finally drifted off. 

He woke up with his face smushed into the foam mattress, drooling. He groaned. 

“Welcome back,” Natasha said. She was sitting on a chair next to his bed, texting. 

“Oh, thank god,” Peter said. “Nat- Nat- I just had the worst dream  _ ever _ -” Peter whined.

“Did you pee on Steve?” she asked. 

Peter stared at her. “How did you know?” Peter demanded. 

“Because it wasn’t a dream.” 

Peter stared at her in horror. “What?” 

Natasha sighed. “You didn’t go to the bathroom as soon as possible after your heat ended,” she said, not looking up from her texting. “There’s consequences to not going for 5 days.” 

Peter looked even more horrified. “You... you don’t go to the bathroom during a heat?” he asked, scandalized. “How is that even possible?” 

She shrugged. “You’d have to ask Bruce. What matters is that you-” she bopped him on the nose, “need to TRY to go when it’s over, even if you don’t think you need to. Unless you have a thing for peeing on panicked alphas,” she said, and gave him a Look. 

Peter cringed. “God no.” 

“Good. Because  _ now _ we need to go x-ray your hand,” she said tersely. “Because  _ someone _ got confused and thought they were an alpha.” 

Peter cringed even harder. “Nat-” he protested. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. He wilted. 

“I don’t care how angry you are. There’s  _ no _ excuse for hurting yourself like this,” she said firmly, and started unwrapping him from his blanket prison. 

“Yes Omega,” Peter said miserably. He’d stopped bleeding- but when he went to push himself up, a flash of pain told him he’d really fucked up this time. 

“It hurts?” 

“Yes,” Peter whined. 

“Good. Let’s go.” 

He followed her meekly. Someone had dressed him in sweatpants and a stupidly oversized Stark MedTech t-shirt. 

She lead him back to the conference room, and opened the door. Peter’s ears were suddenly assaulted by the sound of Tony shouting. 

“-can’t go back! It’s not safe!” 

“He’s MY KID not yours-” Aunt May shouted back. 

Natasha knocked loudly on the door, and silence descended. 

“He’s awake. His hand still hurts,” she said matter of factly as if Tony and Aunt May didn’t sound like they’d been on the verge of strangling each other not 5 seconds ago. Peter pushed around her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. 

“Aunt May?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Hey kiddo,” she said, smiling big and bright at him. “You feeling better now?” 

Peter glanced at Tony, who was doing a shitty job of hiding how pissed he was. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Just boring grown up stuff,” she said, lying through her teeth. “Lets go and get an x-ray of that hand, okay?” 

Aunt May went with him to a back room where a tech made him wear a lead apron, and they took a picture of his hand. 

“We’ll have the results in just a minute,” the tech said kindly. “Just hang out for a minute and we’ll see if we have to put a cast on or not.” 

They sat in some weird hospital waiting room chairs that were just a step above folding chairs. 

“May-” he started. 

“Peter-” she started at the same time. They both stopped. 

“You first Peter,” she said. 

“What were you arguing with Tony about?” he asked quietly. 

She sighed. “That is not for you to worry about,” she said. “What’s important is that you know that I’m going to take care of you, and do what’s best for you, alright?” 

Peter stared at her in mild horror. Of course he knew that. But... there was something about the way that she said it that set off alarm bells in his head. 

“May?” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said firmly. “We’ll get your hand all fixed up and then I’m going to take you home.” 

Peter studied the floor. On the one hand... he did kinda want to go home. On the other... the thought of leaving the tower made him feel... uneasy. 

Banner was the one who came with the results- and a splint.

“The bad news is that you’ve broken a metatarsal. The good news is that it’s a hairline fracture and you’ll only need a splint for a few days.” 

“How long is a few days?” May asked.

“I’ll do another x-ray on Monday. See how it’s healed,” Bruce said, strapping the splint to Peter’s right hand. “If it’s all good, we’ll take the splint off.” He paused. “And remember- no pain medication. I know it’ll suck but you’re just going to have to tough it out.” 

Peter groaned. He hadn’t thought about that. “Fine,” he said, dejectedly. 

Bruce looked at May. 

“I’ll make sure that he doesn’t take anything,” she said, and ruffled his hair. “Let’s get out of here kiddo. And tell Dr. Banner ‘thank you’,”

“Thank you Bruce,” Peter recited dutifully. 

“Not a problem,” Bruce said, looking amused. “Feel free to call me any time.” 

“Can’t I say goodbye to Tony?” Peter fussed. 

May pursed her lips. “You can call him when we get home,” she said. 

Peter frowned. “May-” he protested.

“Nope. I know you. You’ll wind up asking for ‘5 more minutes’ that turns into 2 hours. Let’s go. You’ve been away from home long enough,” she said, and herded him towards the elevator. “Plus you’ve got make up work to do from school that’s due on Monday when you go back.” 

Peter groaned. Life was just so fucking UNFAIR. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a similar "Puberty Surprise!" sort of chapter in Going Home (chapter 20 & 21), and it was one of my favorites to write. There's always things that people don't talk about/just assume that you know that surprises you about your own body during puberty.


	24. The Nesting Habits of Cuckoo Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuckoo birds have a fairly interesting habit of laying eggs in smaller species' nests and leaving them to be raised by bird strangers. The "adoptive" mother will feed and raise the baby as their own, apparently never even noticing that their baby is (for some reason) a giant, and the wrong species. 
> 
> Humans have a similar myth of changelings where elves would steal a young human child from their bed and replace it with an elven child who would then act strangely or suddenly become sickly. Some think the myth is an attempt by medieval/ancient peoples to explain the onset of autism and possibly food allergies in weaning children. 
> 
> *cue David Attenborough voice* With that in mind let's observe a brand new teenage omega as they are reintroduced to their native habitat: the family home.

The ride home was an uneasy one. His Aunt's car, an unremarkable Toyota Corolla that he'd ridden in hundreds of times before, suddenly and bafflingly smelled... weird. Offensive weird.

It took him nearly 10 minutes to figure out it was his Aunt's pine air freshener that hung from her rear view mirror. It had never bothered him before. But he found himself hating the damn thing with the ferocity of a thousand suns.

He covertly threw it out the window while she was checking her blind spot to make a left hand turn.

"Did you just throw my air freshener out the window?" she demanded incredulously.

"What?" he lied, badly. "Your air freshener? Um... what about it?"

“My little tree thing. That you just threw out the window,” she said. “Or are you denying that that just happened?”

Peter sighed. “Look, it just- it really smelled, okay?”

“So your solution to the problem was to just... throw it out the window,” she said flatly. “Instead of, you know, talking to me about it.”

Well, when you put it _ that _way...

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But it was really bad, Aunt May-”

She sighed. “I’ll forgive you- _ this time _,” she said wearily. “But you can’t just throw out other people’s things without asking, yeah?”

Peter wilted. Now he felt like an ass.

“Sorry May,” he said, meaning it this time.

She hummed, and gave him a judgy look. “I really shouldn’t have to tell you that, you know,” she pointed out. “You’re 15 Peter- I expect better judgement from you.”

“Yes Aunt May,” he said. Jesus Christ. Why the fuck was it so hard to go more than 5 minutes without fucking something up?

He resolved to do better.

As part of his resolve to do better, when he got home he carefully removed his shoes at the door, and put his book bag in his room instead of just throwing it somewhere on the couch in the living room.

“Homework is on your desk!” May said from the kitchen. “I just picked it up this morning.”

“What did you tell them?” Peter asked.

“You got lucky this time, kid. Everyone’s been excused for the last week because of the whole ‘armed intruders’ thing. Today was the first day back. I told them you got sick while you were out,” she said.

Peter frowned. “Armed intruders?”

“When you called Tony for help, he freaked out. The entire pack came down expecting... I dunno. Anyway, they didn’t stop at the front office and sign in, if you get my drift.”

Peter recoiled in horror. “They stormed my school?” he asked, horrified. “Was everyone okay?”

“They hog tied a couple of the teachers, but other than that I think the worst that happened was some bruised egos and broken doors,” she said.

“Oh god- Ned! Have you talked to him?”

“I’ve talked to his mother, and they know you’re okay,” she said, and handed Peter a sandwich on a plate. “Eat. Call your friend. Then I expect you to start work on that homework,” she said. “Life doesn’t stop because you get a heat.”

Peter flushed. “Yes Aunt May,” he said, and retreated to his room.

He had to dig a bit to get his phone out of his bag. When he plugged it in, it started dinging like crazy with messages and missed call notifications. Almost all of them were from Ned. A few were from unknown numbers that claimed to be news organizations looking for “his version of events”. He deleted those.

He called Ned, who breathlessly picked up on the second ring. “PETER?” Ned shouted down the phone. “HOLY SHIT YOU’RE ALIVE!”

“Dude! May said she’d talked to your mom-”

“It could have been a cover story!” Ned insisted. “Did you really get kidnapped by the CIA?” he asked.

“WHAT?”

“Everyone’s saying that that someone got taken by the CIA. I assumed it was some sort of top secret mission thing-”

Peter face palmed. “Ned- no. Just no. The CIA wouldn’t_ storm my school _ to take me to... to... wherever.”

“So what happened then?” Ned demanded.a

Peter hesitated. “I... I went into heat at school,” he said. “I called Tony, and I guess he overreacted.”

There was silence on the other end. “I TOLD YOU you smelled weird!” Ned announced. “Dude- I totally called it!”

Peter sighed. “Yeah Ned, you did,” he said quietly.

“Wait, why didn’t you call May?”

“She was on her surgery rotation. I couldn’t call her.”

“Well, dude, I think next time you should call my Mom. She’s cool. She’d come pick you up and not, ya know- freak out everyone at school.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Peter said dryly.

“Oh- did you hear? They’re talking about canceling spring break-”

“What?” Peter squawked. “They can’t do that-”

“We’ve been out for 3 days man, apparently we used up all our snow days during the winter, so it’s that or go to school for an extra week-”

They talked about everything and nothing and all for nearly an hour before May knocked on Peter’s door. “Time to get off, Peter. Homework!”

Peter sighed. Technically, it was Friday, and so therefore he had all weekend to do his make up work, but...

“I gotta go Ned. May wants me to work on my homework packet.”

“But... it’s like Friday...”

“Dude. Don’t get me started,” Peter deadpanned.

Ned snorted a laugh. “Fine. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Bye Peter!” Ned chirped and hung up.

Peter looked up to see May still standing there. “What? I hung up!”

“Good. Get to work! I have plans for us this Sunday. So no procrastinating!”

“Plans?”

She smiled. “Homework. Then we’ll see.”

Peter sighed and climbed off his bed to sit at his desk. There was a packet of papers there, but when he moved them, there was a book he’d never seen before sitting on his desk. He frowned at the title: “The Care and Keeping of You: The Ultimate Body Book For Omegas”.

Peter frowned, and flipped it over. The back was fairly simple- just going on about how it was meant to “empower omegas” with knowledge of their own biology. The book, most promising of all, was not pink. There was, in fact, no pink at all anywhere on the cover. It was a bit odd, since pink was sort of the ultimate “omega color”.

He looked around. Where on earth could it have come from, though-

_ Aunt May. _

Of course.

He felt a bit... weird... opening it. Like at any moment someone was going to jump out from behind a closet door or something and start shouting about how much of a pervert he was.

He wound up closing the door to his room.

The book seemed to pretty much not apply to him. He made a face and flipped past the pages that talked about boobs and pubic hair- that stuff even betas knew about. He was about to close it when a simple and tasteful scientific line illustration in the back caught his eye. He opened the book fully, and it took nearly a full minute for him to realize what, exactly, he was looking at.

It showed the inside bits of an omega, with a fully inflated alpha knot inside it. How the knot shifted the bits inside the omega to make room for it-

Jesus, it looked... big.

In fact, it seemed... huge.

He suddenly had a vague memory of a new alpha waving his fist around, bragging about the size of his new knot... Peter made a fist, stared at it, and promptly discovered new and previously unexplored depths of horror.

Holy fuck... he turned the book 90 degrees and peered with growing disbelief at the illustration.

God... that looked- how did it not like... split them in half? Or at least make them bleed?

The alphas in the locker rooms at school always talked about omegas "begging for their knot" or some other stupid nonsense. But the more he looked at it... this didn't seem like something ANYONE would want.

He turned the book some more. Maybe a different angle?

It did not help.

_ He couldn't figure out how it got IN there to begin with... _

He had a somewhat hysterical vision that involved some sort of shoehorn.

How the fuck did that not _ hurt??? _

_ What had Clint said? “If she’s still walking, you didn’t do it right?” _

As for him, _ that _ was supposed to go... to go...

He found his knees had slammed themselves shut of their own accord, and the book was hastily flung into a desk drawer and the drawer slammed shut.

He took a moment to breathe, and try to unclench his ass. He was fine. Everything was fine. Just... _ Jesus Christ. _ How the hell did Tony do it?

Or even worse- how the hell did Steve do, well- _ that _ to Tony? The alpha seemed to like his mate... but the whole thing didn’t seem like something you’d do to someone you liked...

Wait... did Tony do it? Maybe they used...

Nope. Time to abort that thought process. Abandon ship. Not Going There Parker.

Homework. Homework was a thing that needed to be doing. Some math and reading about some Dead White Dudes seemed to be just the ticket to avoid him needing to remove his brain and wash it with bleach.

It was a good plan. It lasted all of half an hour before it fell apart. As he worked, he gradually became more and more aware of the dresser that was to his left. It was an old wooden one that had used to be Ben’s when he was a boy. There wasn’t anything special about it. And it had been in that spot for years now.

He glared at it. It had absolutely no business being in that corner. It did NOT belong there.

But that was stupid. It was a piece of furniture. Where it was in the room didn’t matter.

He went back to his work.

10 minutes later he was dragging it across the room, swearing under his breath as he struggled to shift it to the middle of the room without causing too much pain to his right hand in the process.

Right. If he put his bed there-

“What on earth is going on in here?” May demanded from the doorway.

“Fixing my room,” he said.

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to working on homework?” she asked.

“I can’t! It’s... it’s WRONG!”

She frowned. “Wrong?”

“It’s in the wrong place...” he grumbled. “It’ll only take a minute to fix it-” he protested.

She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Looked around his room. “Okay... just... make sure you don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

“Yeah- I’ll be fine. Super strength, remember?”

She hummed, clearly skeptical, and left.

He tugged, pulled, and dragged. He shoved the dresser against the other walls. Against the window. Sideways in the closet. For half a second he even considered webbing the damn thing to the ceiling and was actually looking for his webshooters when sanity caught up to him.

2 hours later his room was back the way it was before, and he lay miserably sprawled eagle on the floor.

His aunt peeked in, and eyed the room. “I thought you were rearranging things.”

“I really really don’t want to talk about it,” Peter said, feeling disgusted with himself. Now that he’d put things back, it felt right, but still... what the fucking hell?

She considered him, and took a sip of her tea. “You done with homework?”

“No.”

“Come eat dinner and you can finish afterwards,” she said. She sounded amused.

Peter managed to eat dinner and finish him homework without any further mental breakdowns.

The real trouble came when he went to bed.

He tossed and turned and fluffed and refluffed pillows and rearranged blankets. At 2am he raided the linen closet. At 4 am he stole every single cushion from the living room, including the couch cushions.

At 6 am, he woke up to a strangled “Are those my couch cushions?”

Peter flailed a bit, and unearthed his face from the generalized pile on the floor he’d made in the night.

“Wha?” he asked intelligently.

She sighed. “Put them back when you’re done, please.”

He whined in frustration. He’d _ just _ gotten his pile the way that he liked it-

“I’m going to go to work. I’ll be back in time for dinner. Don't forget to vacuum the living room. You gonna be okay?”

Peter stuck out an arm and gave a reluctant thumbs up from under his pile of stolen soft and fluffy things.

She took one last look around, shook her head, and left.

****

May sighed and dug the keys out of her pocket. She did a bit of juggling with the grocery bags before she managed to get the door to the house open.

“Peter? Did you-” she froze. Stared at the living room. The entire thing- the furniture, the TV, the joke painting of “dogs playing poker”- had all been moved to different walls. It was like someone had come in, and rotated the whole room 90 degrees to the left.

“Peter?” she called, confused and alarmed. When she didn’t get an answer, she hurried to put the grocery bags in the kitchen- only to nearly accidentally drop the bags on the floor because the kitchen table had been moved to the other side of the kitchen to be crammed into a corner near the window. Almost afraid of what she’d find, she experimentally opened a cabinet.

The entire thing had been rearranged. It took her a moment to grasp the reasoning, but at her best guess, Peter had gone by box size/shape and possibly color- never mind the contents of said boxes. As a result, the shelf in front of her held, (in a strict size order of rectangular boxes) ramen, a box of baking soda, a box of hot chocolate mix, a box of instant flavored oatmeal pouches, 2 cake mixes, some instant powdered mashed potatoes, and a box of uncooked spaghetti noodles.

She stared at it for a long moment. The next cabinet revealed that he’d alphabetized her spice rack, as well as the canned goods. She noted, with an almost out of body sense of amusement, that he’d classified “Green Beans” as “Beans, Green,” and had lovingly placed them next to the “Beans, Kidney”. She knew this because there were sticky labels on the shelves- all written in sharpie with Peter’s careful “official lab notebook” handwriting.

She debated on opening the fridge with the handle of the broom, before womaning up and just yanking it open. The inside had been apparently bleached within an inch of its life judging by the smell, and yes- there were more sticky labels on the shelves. She wondered what the child planned on doing when the jug of cranberry-apple juice she had just bought instead of plain apple ruined the alphabetical order of what was now apparently the Juice Shelf ™.

She wandered the house with all the caution of a jungle explorer that expected very hungry leopards to be hiding behind things. The linen closet was completely empty, while the utility closet under the stairs had been spared reorganization completely. Her room was also, thankfully untouched. The cabinet in the bathroom had all the pill bottles carefully arranged by size in a row, and the closet in the hallway held a literal pyramid of toilet paper rolls.

“Peter?” she called hesitantly, and opened the door to his room with a broom she’d found next to the paper pyramid. Thankfully, nothing exploded, and there was no frightened screaming. Instead she found a mound of... laundry? Sofa pillows? Her grandmother’s old sheets? On the floor. It had grown exponentially since this morning, and moved ever so slightly up and down, indicating that yes- Peter was underneath all that crap and was (thankfully) breathing, and possibly sleeping.

She stared at it for a long minute. Eventually she got out her cell phone and dialed a number. “Hey, Dr. Banner? Yeah- it’s May. No- no- Peter’s fine. Sorta. Look- can we move up that testing to tomorrow?”


	25. The Trouble with Being a Clydesdale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clydesdales are draft horses- it means they pull big heavy things like wagons. If you’ve ever seen a Budweiser Superbowl commercial you’ve probably seen one. They are the great danes of horses- they’re stupidly big, and the few that I’ve seen in person were just crazy good with kids, and were insanely patient to boot. 
> 
> With that said, we’re taking the struggle bus on a scenic detour, all the way to Tennessee for a quick sort of "compare and contrast" to Peter. And for other reasons that will be clear later in the book. 
> 
> And for those psychic people who’ve asked “Where’s Harley?”: Here he is. (And stop looking at my notes/plot outline! It’s cheating!)

Harley banged the skillet back onto the stove harder than strictly necessary after plating the scrambled eggs.

“Come on Abby, let’s go! Bus comes in 10 minutes!” he bellowed through the house. He shoved a portion of the eggs onto the tray of the high chair, where a happy 8 month old baby girl laughed at the sudden bounty. Harley watched with amused horror as the eggs were consumed via the "shoving fists with eggs in them into her mouth" method.

“Don’t choke, sweet pea’,” he scolded gently.

“I’m here! I’m here!” an out of breath brunette pre-teen girl appeared from the hallway.

“You have your homework?”

“Yes.”

“Your science book-”

“Yes- I’m ready!” she said irritably, bouncing in place.

“Your phone?” he continued doggedly.

“Yes.”

“Is it charged?”

She rolled her eyes “YES!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your lunch?”

She blinked, mouth open wide in horror. “My lunch!”

He let her suffer for a moment before smiling gently. “It’s on the table next to the door, darlin’. Well? What are you waiting for? GO GO GO!” he shooed her towards the door.

She took off running, grabbing the lunch box as she went. “BYE!” she screamed before slamming the front door closed after her.

Harley wolfed down the rest of the eggs, and split a piece of buttered toast with the baby. He checked the time. He’d have to hustle if he was going to make it. He let her eat while he hastily made some PB&J sandwiches for his own lunch. He threw in a bag of chips and a can of pop, and shoved the paper lunch bag into his own book bag.

Emma watched him work, and deliberately knocked her sippy cup onto the floor. Harley sighed, and picked it up off the floor. “And now you’ve lost it, sweetheart,” he said firmly, putting the cup on the counter well out of her reach. “We don’t throw things on the floor.”

Emma stared at him in shock, then slowly scrunched up her face and started to wail. “Up! UP!” she demanded, her face red, and waved her hands imperiously towards the cup.

“Nope,” he said. He ignored her wailing to undo the harness and dragged her out of the high chair. He held the screaming and kicking infant expertly like a football over a trash can and brushed the worst of the egg off her. A binky popped into her mouth didn’t quite solve the crying issue, but it at least made her quieter. He dumped the pan and the plate into the sink with her on his hip. He’d have to clean up the tray when he got home. 

“Ready to go to school, Emmy?” he asked, parking her on a table top and shoving her arms into her coat, before zipping it shut. Even though it was April, it was still chilly outside, especially in the mornings. She didn’t stop wailing- in fact she wailed even louder when he set her down for a second on the floor long enough to shrug on a hoodie.

He grabbed his keys and his book bag, settled her on his hip again, and headed for the door.

He paused, hand on the door knob, then doubled back and grabbed a blanket covered with pink elephants and a battered pink care bear off the sofa. “Whoops! Can’t forget blankie and bear!” he said with false cheer. She was too busy crying to hear him. She calmed a bit when he put her in her car seat in the back of an ancient Dodge Dakota pickup, and shoved the bear and blanket into her lap.

By the time he dropped her off at daycare she was a bit sniffly, but went willingly to the overly-happy omega daycare worker.

“Hey there sweet girl! I see you had eggs for breakfast! I bet it was yummy!" Sandra gushed as she took both the kid and the various accessories off him.

Harley winced. “Sorry, crazy mornin'. My mom will pick her up.”

Sandra nodded. “I’ve got her! Go have a good day at school, Harley! Say bye bye to your brother, Emma!” she said, and waved Emma’s arm at Harley.

“Bye Bye!” Emma said.

"Bye sweet pea," he said, and gave her a kiss before hurrying out the door.

He broke somewhere around 10 different traffic laws and slid into his seat in biology class exactly 4 minutes late.

“Mr. Keener- so glad for you to finally join us,” Mr. Finnigan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Unless you have a note, I’ll see you on Saturday in detention.”

Harley winced. He had a shift on Saturday.

“Yes sir,” he said resignedly. He really ought to either have his mother mass produce the damn things and let him have a stash of them. Or learn to forge his mother’s signature.

That or he could just let it ride, and pick up some shifts at work when they eventually suspended him. He’d have to think about that. This was his last year after all, and there was only a month and a bit left before he graduated. Would one suspension be that bad really, when you looked at the long term?

He barely paid attention in class. It was all boring squishy-related science, and he had no interest in it. Give him a good hydraulic set any day over “genes”.

Eventually the bell rang. He got up to leave, only to have Mr. Finnigan wave him over. “Come here a minute, son,” he said.

Harley ambled over, dread forming in his stomach. What did the man want now? He stopped a polite distance from him. If he slouched a bit more he would be about on eye level with the older pot-bellied alpha.

“Yes sir?” he asked politely because his Momma had raised him right.

The older alpha leveled him, or at least tried to, with a look. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you coming in late more and more frequently over this last month, Harley. I know it’s getting close to graduation, but you need to take your education seriously. It doesn’t matter that you’re an alpha- you have some serious potential and I’d hate to see it wasted.”

“I’m gettin' an A, aren’t I?” Harley retorted.

“Actually, you’re getting a C.”

“What?” Harley demanded, stunned. “I’ve gotten an A on every test I’ve ever taken-”

“You’re missing several homework assignments. And I don’t give participation points to people who don’t participate in my class,” Mr. Finnigan said sternly.

Harley gaped at him. “Can... can I make it up? Do extra credit or somethin'?”

The teacher considered him. “I’ll tell you what. You come to class- _ on time _ for two weeks and I’ll give you some work you can do to bring your grade up.”

It was like being shot. That... that was impossible. There was no way he could get the girls out the door in the morning and make it to school on time _ every day _, especially not now, when Momma had just gotten the breakfast/lunch shift that she’d been praying for. With the new schedule, and Harley’s shifts at the garage and junk yard, they were finally on track to making the full payments on the hospital debt from when Emma had been born. Next month they might not even get calls from bill collectors...

Harley gritted his teeth. “Thank you Mr. Finnigan,” he said quietly. “I’ll try.”

Maybe... maybe if he got Abby up earlier? But then she’d be left waiting at her bus stop all by herself. And they didn’t live in the best neighborhood... Not to mention he was already one of the first people to drop off at the daycare... what time did they start accepting children exactly? He wasn’t sure.

He’d have to think about it.

Worse case, was one C that bad?

“Good. And speaking of academics- you have an appointment with the guidance counselor at around 11 today. They’ll call you down over the intercom when they’re ready for you.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, now go on. Don’t be late to your next class too,” Mr. Finnigan said.

Harley gratefully fled.

They called him down at 11:05.

He went in, half hopeful and half full of dread. The last time he’d seen her he’d asked about scholarships for Empire State and NYU- maybe even Caltech (though that last one was a fever dream. He’d never be able to afford it. But still... you never knew until you asked.)

Mrs. Drake was a beta- but she sat in her office chair like a natural born alpha, all confidence and authority.

“Mr. Keener-” she said, and he shook her hand.

“Ma’am,” he said, before slouching in one of the chairs opposite her desk.

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll get right down to business. Last time we spoke, you asked about scholarships, so I did some digging, and to be frank, I’m afraid you don’t have a lot of options.”

Harley frowned. “I don’t understand. My gpa and SAT-”

“Are very good, yes. But- you don’t have much else going for you.”

Harley stared at her, frustration clear on his face. “What?”

“Colleges like NYU and even Empire State are looking for more than just a good Gpa and SAT scores. There’s thousands- millions of students who have that. These days they’re looking for something... extra. And you don’t have that. No extra-curriculars, not even a sport or charity work. A lot of the scholarships aimed at alphas are focused on sports, business, or even nursing orderlies- but you’ve told me you have no interest in those.”

“Now-” she pulled out a brochure from her desk, “With your grades and SAT score, you _ can _ get into Pellissippi State Community College no problem. They offer a very nice program for Mechanical Engineering, and they also have a welding program I would highly encourage you to look into. You’ve told me you’re good with your hands, and welders can make very good money. In addition, the local welder’s union has several scholarships available that you could apply for to help with tuition cost.”

He stared at the brochure. A community college? He took it with numb fingers.

He already knew how to weld, he thought somewhat hysterically. _ Tony fucking Stark _had taught him how when he was 13. He’d been welding ever since.

But...” he trailed off. He wanted to make robots. And... and... _ fuck _.

She read his face perfectly. “I’m sorry Harley,” she said gently. “There is of course, option B.”

He looked up at her, hopeful. “Option B?”

“Have you ever thought of joining the army?” she asked sincerely.

*********

Harley sat down heavily at the lunch table next to a wispy beta with black hair.

“Whoa- take it easy Thor,” Evan joked. “Save some table pieces for the rest of us.”

Harley rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny Evan,” he said miserably, and dug a sandwich out of his paper bag.

“Seriously- who died and shit in your cheerios?” Evan demanded. “We’re almost free from this place, man! We should be celebrating! Wait- is your mom pregnant again?”

Harley shuddered. “Fuck you, _ no. _Mrs. Drake says I don’t gotta chance of getting into basically anywhere I wanted. She asked me if I had ever thought of joining the army.”

Evan choked on his drink. “The _ military _?” he asked, outraged. “But... you’re not even a fuck up! Like, not even a little!”

“That’s what I thought!” Harley said. “But she gave me this card for a recruiter and everythin'-”

“What’s going on?” Mary-Anne asked, and sat down with her tray.

“Mrs. Drake gave Harley the army guy’s card!” Evan said, clearly scandalized. He had to lean over the table to be seen around Harley.

Mary-Anne frowned at them, “So? I think you’d be great at it Harley.”

Both boys turned astonished gazes at the slight omega.

“Are you serious right now, Anne?” Evan complained, glaring at her.

“What?”

“Why on earth would I be any good at it?” Harley demanded.

Now it was Mary-Anne’s turn to look at them like they were stupid. She raised her eyebrows and very pointedly looked him up and down. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?” she asked. “And did you grow again?” she demanded.

Harley huffed, irritated. “Another half inch,” he groused.

Evan scrunched up his nose. “That’d make you what- 6’2” now?”

“6’3” an' a half,” Harley grumbled. “Drivers measured me a few days ago at the shop.”

Evans whistled. “You’re taller than Captain America dude!”

Harley rolled his eyes. “_ I know _,” he said. Everyone at the shop had said the exact same thing to him. It was as horrifying as it was inconvenient. His hands were large enough now to make it a pain in the ass to do any sort of fiddly detail work. Plus he’d noticed within the last 6 months or so that omegas and betas with children tended to cross the street when they saw him coming. Like it was his fault he’d shot up like a noxious weed the second he’d popped his knot.

“What does that have to do with anythin'?” Harley complained. “Lots of people are tall.”

“And how much can you lift again?” she continued.

Harley narrowed his eyes at her. “I dunno. Car engines don’t usually have that label on them.”

“Uh huh,” she said sarcastically. “Clearly you are not suited for _ any _ sort of punching bad guys at all. I can see why you are so confused. Clearly someone like you - who is about to blow away in the wind - has _ no _ business running around saving people.”

She took a bite of her lunch. After a second of silence, Evan said, “Well, when you put it _ that _ way- I can totally see why Mrs. Drake-”

Harley whipped around and growled at him.

Evan hunched in on himself a little but didn’t back down. “I’m just saying she’s got a point dude!”

Harley deflated. “But I don’t _ want _to punch people,” he complained. “I want to make robots-”

“Robots that punch people, you mean?” Mary-Anne asked, the little shit.

Harley glared at her. “They don’t have to,” he protested.

“So, join the army, punch things, then convince them to let you make things that punch things better,” Mary-Anne said, as if it was obvious. “At least the pay will be steady. Don’t have to worry about your paycheck bouncing.”

Harley grumbled into his chips. God damn it, Mary-Anne. Now he was actually considering it.

“Also, I know of at least 4 omegas who’d volunteer to be kidnapped by terrorists if it meant you showing up in an army uniform to save them,” she said, apropos of nothing.

Harley blinked, then blushed. “Fuck you,” he growled.

“No, I’m serious. If you declared yourself available, I guarantee a line would form.”

Harley shifted uncomfortably. “Ain’t got nothin’ to offer,” he said softly. “Plus I gotta take care of the girls.”

She snorted. “That’s not true. And an omega could help you with the girls,” she insisted.

“Why are you so pushy, Anne?” Evan complained. “You lobbying for the position?”

Mary-Anne scowled at him. “Fuck no. But I just so happen to know that men who are married get paid more when they join the military. Some sort of extra allowance.”

Harley rolled his eyes. “Now that’s just wrong. I’m not gonna _ mate _ someone for more in my paycheck.”

“I said ‘marry’ Harley, not mate. And I bet your Momma wouldn’t say no to an extra set of hands living in her place when you deploy.”

“I’m not- that’s....” Harley complained.

“I’m not saying you need to marry the first girl you see. But you could marry someone. Lots of alphas marry without a mating bite for like insurance benefits and things. There’s no law against it.”

Harley huffed. “Can we talk about somethin' else, please?” he pleaded. “I feel like I’m gonna get a headache talking about this.”

Evan considered for a moment. “Has anyone noticed that Danny Mathis looks like he’s stuffing his pants with at least 4 pairs of socks?” he asked, staring fixedly at a wiry beta that was making his way across the lunch room.

It was Mary-Anne’s turn to choke on her soda.

Harley snorted. “I’m not in the habit of staring at people’s dicks, Evan,” he complained. “Unlike you, obviously.”

“Well you don’t stare at boobs, man. You gotta look at _ something _,” Evan complained.

Harley rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna marry you for a larger paycheck Evan,” he said, sounding bored.

Evan snorted. “You could. I’d totally do it for like, a few hundred dollars a month. I’d wear a veil and everything. Make me a kept beta or whatever.”

“Slut,” Mary-Anne coughed into her pizza.

“One of us has to be!” Evan protested, eyeing Danny like a piece of meat. “I’m gonna go talk to him. Be right back.”

“Don’t forget to make him wear a condom!” Harley called after him. Evan flipped him the bird without even looking.

Harley smirked, and ate his lunch. This was going to be good. Evan trying to get into someone’s pants never failed to entertain.

“You know...” Mary-Anne said quietly. “If you wanted... you could just get in touch with Tony Stark. A letter of recommendation from him could get you in anywhere.”

Harley froze, then sighed. “I keep forgettin' you know about that,” he groused.

“So? Would it kill you to write a single email?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I haven’t heard from him in almost two years Mary-Anne. The last time I sent him somethin' it bounced back. He musta updated his spam filters,” he said quietly. “Doesn’t matter anyway. He’s Iron Man. And I’m...” he shrugged. “Just some stupid kid from Tennessee, I guess.”

She side eyed him. “You know,” she said, “you always sell yourself short. And you are definitely _ not _ stupid.”

Harley snorted and ate his sandwich.

****

Harley pulled into the junkyard an hour before his shift started. He gathered up his backpack and walked inside the office.

“Harley! You need help with that English homework again?” A broad beta with golden hair greeted him from behind the main counter.

“Not today Barlow,” Harley said, slipping onto a chair behind the counter. “I was hopin’ I could pick your brain about somethin’ else.”

“Well, I don’t know nothin’ about omegas, Harl,” Barlow teased.

Harley flushed. “It ain't about omegas. I ain’t got time for that. It’s about your service.”

Barlow’s sunny smile faded, his expression turned serious. “What about it, Harley?” he asked cautiously.

“Do you regret joinin'?”

Barlow considered him for a long moment. “Most days I don’t,” he answered slowly. “But some days my leg reminds me that I should have listened to my Momma,” he said, and knocked on his prosthetic. It made a thumping plasticy noise. “Why? Has someone been talkin’ nonsense to you, Harl?” he asked suspiciously.

Harley studied the floor. “My guidance counselor says it might be good for me. I’d get a signin' bonus and the pay would be steady. We could pay off Emma’s hospital bills with that. I could work on the trucks and the tanks and things, so I wouldn’t be in like actual combat. That don’t sound too hard. Plus afterwards I could use the GI Bill to pay for college.”

Barlow thought for a moment. “Sure. Sounds like easy work to me. Until you realize that if you’re deployed to Iraq you’d be working every day in 100 degree heat on hot engines,” he said reasonably. “And I wouldn’t say that being a mechanic saves you from combat, if you’re in a convoy that starts taking fire, they don’t care if you’re a medic or a mechanic or Jesus himself. They’s still gonna shoot at you.”

“Maybe. But don’t we got peoples in like France? I might end up there,” Harley pointed out. “Plus with the Iron Patriot running around there’s less work-”

“Now _ that _ is a bunch of government propaganda bullshit,” Barlow cut in firmly. “I was there when Iron Man was still playing soldier and he made nothing but trouble for us regular folk.”

Harley shrugged, and didn’t argue.

“Are you serious about this Harley?” Barlow asked. “I thought you wanted to go to Empire State.”

Harley pressed his lips together. “Ain’t no scholarships for alphas from Rose Hill that don’t got any extracurriculars or don’t play sports,” he said, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice and mostly failing. “It’s the army or the community college for me.”

“Oh Harley-”

“It is what it is,” Harley said sharply. He didn’t want the mans’ pity.

Barlow nodded. “It be like that sometimes,” he agreed neutrally. “Don’t mean it hurts any less though.”

Harley shrugged apathetically.

“You know, it’s hard to remember that you’re only 17. You’re more responsible than my own Pa most days,” Barlow said, chuckling. “I’m sure that whatever it is you choose, it’ll work out. Youse a good alpha Harley.”

Harley blushed. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. “I got homework to do,” he said.

“Back office is free,” Barlow said. “And if youse got the time, I’d appreciate it if you put some numbers in the book for me tonight. You can start early today.”

Harley nodded. “Call me if you need me,” he said, and headed for the back.

Two hours later and Harley was wrangling invoice numbers into submission when his cell phone went off. Frowning, he dug the phone out of his pocket. His heart dropped a little when he saw it was from the house. What on earth-

“Hello?” he asked cautiously, praying the house wasn’t on fire or something.

“Can I go to Amber’s?” Abby asked, breathless.

Harley leaned in his chair and considered the clock on the wall behind him.

“Homework?”

“Don’t have any today.”

Harley filed that under “suspicious but probable.”

“Did ya wash Emma’s bottles?”

“Yes.”

“Is the laundry done?” he asked.

“It’s in the dryer-”

“Well then it’s not done, is it?” Harley said, unimpressed.

Abby whined. “But-”

“You fold it and put it away Abigail. _ Then _ you can go.”

“Fine,” Abby said, resigned.

“Make sure you’re home by sunset,” Harley said.

“Harley!” Abby protested.

“I don’t want you walkin’ home after dark by yourself. You hear me?”

She made a noise of disgust.

“Abigail Grace, I said, ‘do you hear me’?” he demanded.

“Yes sir,” she said, this time with grudging respect.

“Good. Go have fun,” he said. “_ After _ you finish the laundry.”

“Okay, okay! I will! Bye!”

“Bye-” he said, but she’d already hung up on him. He snorted. That little snot- it was a good thing she was cute or he’d have thrown her out on her ear already, he thought, amused.

Some time later he was elbow deep in a Grand Caravan pulling a steering wheel column for an order when his cell phone went off again. He didn’t even check the number this time. He just answered.

“Abby I said you could go-”

“Mr. Keener?”

His heart sank into his feet. It was the daycare.

“This is him. Is Emma okay?”

“No-no- she’s fine. But your mother hasn’t picked her up, and she’s not answering her phone.”

Harley checked his watch. SHIT. Emma should have been picked up 20 minutes ago. Jesus Christ, that meant they’d have to pay the late fee...

“I...” he swore internally at his grease stained hands. “I’m sorry about that ma’am. I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” he said.

“Thank you. The director and I will stay here with her until you get here,” she said.

He hung up.

“FUCK!” he breathed purposefully through his nose. Putting a dent in the caravan would be satisfying, but it would do no one any good if he broke his hand in the process.

He scowled at the steering column and gave one last yank on it, not fucking around this time. It came free with a squeal of protest, but it came out and in one piece, which was the important thing. He slung it over a shoulder and hustled back to the office.

“Barlow!” he hollered.

The man poked his head out of the office. “What’s wrong, Harl?”

“Momma didn’t pick up Emmy from the daycare. I gotta go. Can you finish labelin' this thing for the Campbell order?” he asked, putting the steering wheel, column and all, on the desk.

“Sure. Take the rest of the night off,” he said. “And here-” he grabbed a rag and tossed it at Harley, who deftly caught it. “Clean up a bit first. You shouldn’t be handling a sweet pea like that with grease all over you. You’ll ruin her onesie.”

“Thanks Barlow,” he said, and grabbed his book bag. He ran to his truck, wiping his hands as he went. It wouldn’t be enough to get them fully clean- he’d need hot water and that orange lava soap and 10 minutes to scrub all the grease off him.

He got to the daycare in 11 minutes and with grease stained hands. At least he wasn’t contaminating everything he touched still, he thought absently as he pushed on the little doorbell thing so they could buzz him in.

“Mrs. Shefeild-” he said, “Miss Sandra- I’m so sorry,” he said when he was finally inside. The two blonde omegas were alone at the front desk, Emma balanced on a lap and happily eating animal crackers.

“It’s alright Harley. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to fine you- it’s in the contract-” Mrs. Shefeild said.

“I understand.”

“Your payment is also due today,” she said. “If you’re late, there’ll be another fee.”

Harley sighed. God damn this day. He paused for a moment to clamp down on his emotions. The ladies did nothing to deserve alpha irritation stinking up their place of business. He dug out his wallet and got out the blank emergency check he kept there. Thank god he just got paid last week.

“How much I owe you?” he asked.

“550 dollars,” she said.

It hurt. He’d just managed to hit a thousand in his account. Looks like that was gone.

He nodded, and made the check out anyway. Momma would have to pay the mortgage this month, that’s all. It’d work out. Eventually.

“I’m sorry ladies,” he said. “I’d shake your hands, but I’m afraid I’d just get ya’ll dirty.”

Miss Sandra gave him a kind smile. “I hope you find out what happened to Mrs. Keener. I hope she’s alright.”

“I’m sure she just lost track of the time,” he said, and collected Emma and her various accessories.

“We’ll see you on Tuesday, Harley.”

“Ma’am,” he agreed.

He walked out to the car, carefully buckled Emma into her car seat then stepped back and took a lap around the car. He called his mother.

“Come on... pick up...” he muttered.

It went to voicemail.

“God damn it,” he grunted. He was gonna kill her. She couldn’t start doing this again. He didn’t care what bullshit reason she gave, she couldn’t just start not showing up to things because she was ‘depressed’ or whatever.

And if she’d been drinking...

He took a breath. Took another one. He couldn’t get in the car like this. He’d scare Emma. It took him a full five minutes to find a calm place again. He checked the time, and the sky. It was getting late. Technically, Abby had another hour or so before sunset, but...

Fuck it. He’d go and pick her up on the way home. It’d take him a while to get the Costel’s, and they could get McDonald's on the way home- he was in no mood to cook tonight. He’d just burn everything.

Plan in place, he got in the car and headed over to pick up Abby.

15 minutes later he was knocking on their door. Emma was still in her car seat, but he figured it was fine since she was still in his line of sight.

Mrs. Costel answered after a minute. “Harley!” she said, she sounded surprised. “What brings you here?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, I hope I’m not interruptin' your dinner- but I’m here to pick up Abby.”

Mrs. Costel frowned. “Abby?”

“Has she gone home already?”

“Um... hang on a minute. Amber!” she called.

“What?” Amber screamed back from the other side of the house.

“Get over here please!”

A minute later Amber appeared. “Oh- hey Harley. What’s up?”

“Did Abby come over today?” Mrs. Costel asked.

Amber frowned. “What? No-” she said, then froze. “Wait. No. I just remembered. She did. She left just before you got home,” she said, obviously lying.

Was there a record for the number of times your heart could fall out of you? Harley wondered. If she wasn’t here- where the hell could she be?

“Amber?!” Mrs. Costel scolded, clearly alarmed.

Amber squirmed. “She was here,” she insisted, still lying.

Mrs. Costel scowled at her daughter. “You tell Harley where Abby is this second or you’re grounded for two months!” she said firmly.

“What?” Amber said, shocked.

“AMBER LEIGH COSTEL YOU TELL ME THIS INSTANT, OR SO HELP ME-” Mrs. Costel roared, raising a hand threateningly. She was impressive for a beta woman, Harley thought distantly.

“She’s at the park!” Amber sobbed, folding like a cheap chair. “She’s... she’s fine, I swear! She’s at the park!”

“Which one?” Harley insisted.

Amber shrugged. “The one... the one near the Walgreens I think?” she said. “She... she wouldn’t tell me.”

“Harley, I am SO sorry,” Mrs. Costel said, putting her hand down. “Do you want me to call the police for you?”

Harley shook his head. “I’m gonna go look for her,” he said. “Thank you, Mrs. Costel.”

“You call me when you find her, you hear? And I’ll deal with Amber,” she said grimly.

“Yes ma’am,” Harley said, then ran back to his car.

Jesus Christ... he dug out his phone and grimly pulled up the tracking app he had on his phone. He didn’t think he’d ever have to use it, and if she didn’t have it on her...

A minute later he was breathing again when he got a hit at Wilson Park.

It took him a full 5 minutes to drive there- they were some of the longest of his life.

Fortunately, the “park” was a small one. Just a small pagoda with some picnic benches and a swingset. He saw Abby as soon as he pulled in. She was sitting under the pagoda... with a boy?!

He leapt out of the truck almost before he put it in park.

“ABIGAIL GRACE KEENER!” he roared, slamming the door to his truck shut. It sounded like a gunshot. The two children startled apart- Jesus Christ, had they been kissing? He stalked menacingly up, and Abby looked like she was in the process of having a heart attack. The boy beside her similarly looked like a deer in headlights. He looked... older, Harley thought with alarm and disgust.

“Harley!” she stuttered. “What- what-”

“What is happenin' right now had better NOT be what I think is happenin'-” he snarled. “Do I know you, boy?” he demanded.

“Um... I’m... Aaron. I-”

Harley’s scowl intensified. Deliberately he leaned forward into the boy’s personal space and openly scented him. “Alpha-” he said accusingly.

Aaron gulped. “Um... yes? Yes sir?” the boy squeaked.

“Did you know that my Abigail is only 13?” he demanded.

“Harley!” Abby protested.

The boy’s eyes widened in shock, and he looked in alarm back and forth between Harley and Abby.

“No! Sir- No- I did not! She said- she said she was 15! I swear-”

“You have 30 seconds to get out of my sight before I go get my tire iron,” Harley snarled. “And if you even look in her direction again, I WILL have a word with the sheriff.”

The boy somehow looked even more terrified. “Sir! Yes sir!” he said, and scrambled away. Harley watched as the boy literally made a run for it.

Abby, meanwhile, burst into tears. “Why are you even here?” she demanded. “It’s not even past sunset! You said-”

“Get in the car,” he growled, and when she didn’t move, grabbed her by her arm and dragged her back. “Now Abigail!”

Eventually she complied, and she buckled her own seat belt in the back. “I don’t understand- why is Emma here?” she asked tearfully.

Harley ignored her. “I’ve gotta be honest here, Abby. I’ve had a _real_ shit day so far,” he said, putting the car in gear. “Momma didn’t pick up Emma from the daycare so I had to leave work early. THEN I go to pick you up from Amber’s so we could get McDonalds for dinner- only for me to find out that not only did you lie to me about where you were going- you didn’t tell anyone where you went! What if somethin' had happened? What if he tried to- to touch you? Or hurt you? What the hell were you THINKIN'? And with a fuckin' _ alpha _ Abby? Seriously?!”

Abby cried. “It’s just Aaron- he wouldn’t hurt me!” she protested. “He’s smart- and- and-”

“Oh can it-” Harley said callously. He was just DONE with this fucking day. Thank god tomorrow was Saturday or he’d have to call in sick to school- wait. He had detention tomorrow.

FUCK.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, Abby but it needs to stop. It needs to stop NOW, you hear?” he rumbled.

She started crying again. Emma soon joined her, distressed by the noise and all the angry pheromones filling the air in the cabin, he thought. He cracked a window to try to minimize the smell.

When they rolled up to the house, Harley found his rage had cooled into tiredness. Abby darted out of the truck and into the garage, sobbing. “I hate you!” she screamed at him. “You always have to ruin _ everything_!”

It hurt. God, did that hurt.

“Get inside Abby,” he said firmly.

Thankfully, she obeyed, slamming the door shut behind her.

Harley sat for a minute in the truck, head in his hands. God, he just wanted to lie down and just... be done. But he needed to feed Emma and give her her bath and put her to bed, and then probably call around to see if anyone had seen Momma...

“Looks like it’s me and you tonight, sweet pea,” he said, forcing his voice to be gentle as he got the hiccuping and fussy Emma out of her car seat. “Shh... I know. I know. I’m sorry Emmy,” he said, and went inside.

Momma was passed out the sofa in the living room, still in her uniform from the diner. He looked around. He didn’t see any obvious beer cans- he shook her awake. “Momma,” he said.

She startled, eyes wide. “Harley? What- why do you have Emma- Sweet Jesus, what time is it?”

“It’s late Momma,” he said. “You didn’t pick up Emma from the daycare. I had to go get her.”

She looked horrified. “What? Oh my god, Harley- I’m so sorry! I only meant to take a nap- I must have overslept-”

Something inside Harley relaxed. She had been working double shifts at the restaurant today. She must have been tired. She hadn’t been drinking.

_ Thank god. _

“Here- give me Emma,” she said. “You look like you need a shower.”

Harley nodded. “I don’t think she’s had dinner yet, but the ladies at the daycare gave her a snack,” he said.

Momma took her, then looked around. “Where’s Abby? Why didn’t she wake me?”

“I... I told her she could go to Amber’s,” he said. “I...” he sighed. “It’s a long story Momma. I’m tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”

She gave him a small smile. “Sure,” she gave him a kiss on the forehead. “You go put your feet up, Harley. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

The nice hot shower was probably the best thing that had happened to him today. He called Mrs. Costel, and told her that Abby had been found, safe and sound, then he sat on his bed, and set an alarm for the morning on his phone.

It looked like it would be another long day tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was doing research on things like heights of Marvel characters (and actors like a total stalker) and whatnot- and guess who weighs 640 pounds, “officially”? 
> 
> Nope. Not the Hulk.
> 
> THOR. 
> 
> Jesus Christ, say a prayer for Jane Foster. If he rolls over in bed she’s dead. Just squished by an elephant dead. Never mind that- can you imagine trying to lay next to that in bed? She’d have to lay on another continent to avoid slowly rolling into him like a planet being dragged into a black hole. In contrast, Hemsworth weighs 215 pounds when he plays Thor. 
> 
> As for why I made Harley so big? 1) because I can, and 2) big strong alphas can be total geniuses too! Stop discriminating! 
> 
> Also, Mrs. Drake totally sucks as a guidance counselor. She totally could have gotten him a scholarship to say, a state school or something. (There's a reason she's working in Rose Hill, I'm just sayin'.)


	26. Old School Dinosaur Laser Fight II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you wondered about the Harley chapter. I probably should have put him in sooner but if we follow the timeline (yeah I broke down and made one), the events of Harley’s day happen right smack dab in the middle of Peter’s “nesting” chapters. 
> 
> Soo... yeah. He gets a late intro. His story line is relevant though- I promise! 
> 
> Tags: mild panic attack, Tony makes himself puke (but not due to an eating disorder), pregnancy scare

First thing that morning, they had a little ceremony out on the landing pad. Clint, being Clint, had insisted on spraying the whole pile of furniture down with some lighter fluid that he’d gotten from who knows where. Tony had lit the match, tossed it onto the pile, and then promptly nearly lost his eyebrows in the ensuing “whoomph” of flames.

Steve had tackled him and everything, the sweetheart.

Nearly an hour later, it was still smoldering. A couple of helicopters buzzed around- civilian news stations no doubt hoping that the wreckage was from one of Tony’s suits. They always loved their drama.

The day had turned into a rare lazy Saturday morning. Since Steve had taken them off the roster for two weeks it meant all training practices had been cancelled and if aliens happened, it was the X-Men’s problem.

It was nice, being “off”. Tony couldn’t remember the last time the entire team had been taken off the roster at the same time. They should do this more often, he thought as he lazed on a couch, his head on Steve’s lap. Occasionally the alpha would slip him a piece of popcorn or an m&m while Tony fiddled with designs on a StarkPad.

On the wall, a random Disney movie was playing. Tony wasn’t sure what it was, but it had a singing chicken and some love-struck foxes in it. Sam was working on some sort of chili concoction in the kitchen, puttering around and putting more work into herbs and spices than Tony put into some of his phone designs.

Darcy, Jane and Bruce were somewhere in the labs setting up Foster’s new lab space. Apparently the two women were a package deal, and Darcy had put her foot down and refused to be parted from Foster. She’d huffed and glared, then turned on the tears until a panicked Bucky interceded to Tony on their behalf last night. Once Tony had looked over her work, he’d found he actually didn’t mind adding Foster to the “science bros” lab level. (The fact that she was dating Thor didn’t hurt either).

“We should do this more often,” Clint said. He, Natasha and Bucky had apparently dug out every knife they’d ever owned, and laid them out over the entirety of the dining room table. It looked like they were about to open some sort of exotic “everything but swords” store. The trio were currently sharpening, polishing and doing whatever else it is that crazy knife people do to maintain their knives.

“I didn’t know those things needed that much maintenance,” Tony quipped from the couch. In theory he was “working” but in reality, he was just trying to make War Machine- sorry, the Iron Patriot suit the most obnoxious color scheme possible as a sort of mental exercise in tackiness. He was having trouble topping the current design, however. And for some reason pale pink and baby blue kept appearing in most of his “designs”.

“No, I mean a day off for everyone. It’s nice,” Clint said.

“It_ is _ nice,” Steve agreed.

Tony’s pad beeped, and a notification popped up. He frowned at it. “Steve- the Maria Stark Gala is next Saturday. Did you get that suit back from the tailor yet?”

Steve sighed. “Yes,” he said, but it sounded like he wished he hadn’t.

“I’m sorry. Is there something wrong with my parties?” Tony demanded, mock offended..

“You know I hate monkey suits,” Steve complained.

“So walk the red carpet with me, schmooze up to some retired old folks for ten minutes and you can leave,” he said.

“Really?”

“Sure. And then I’ll put some of your underwear up for the auction.”

There was a collection of snorted laughter from the dinner table and the kitchen.

“Tony!” Steve said, scandalized.

“Oh dear, did I say that out loud?” Tony said, completely unrepentant.

“Tony- you can’t-”

But they never found out what Tony couldn’t do because at that moment the elevator door slid open and Fury walked in, with Coulson trailing along after.

“Good Morning! And my- what a beautiful morning it is!” Fury said gleefully. “It’s so nice to see folks enjoying a day off. Isn’t it nice, Coulson?”

“It is sir,” Coulson said.

Tony sat up. “What the hell-” but then Steve was there, standing between the intruder and his mate.

“Fury,” he said coldly. “What do you want?”

“Oh- I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?” Fury asked, and looked around. “Or are you suggesting that I’m not welcome?” the question was pointed.

Bucky quietly sidled up, adding his bulk to the wall between Fury and Tony.

“Because lately I can’t help but get the feeling that we’re not on the same page anymore,” Fury continued.

“And if we’re not, you really think coming here uninvited would help your cause?” Tony demanded, and tried to push Steve out the way. Steve didn’t move. Irritated, he popped around the side of him instead. Or at least, he tried to. Steve stuck an arm out almost absently to block his way.

“Would you stop that already?!” Tony demanded.

“_Omega_,” Steve commanded, his eyes never leaving Fury.

Tony froze, and suddenly gained an extreme interest in the carpet before taking a step back. He huffed unhappily. He _ hated _ when Steve pulled rank and yanked on his invisible chain like that... he scowled at Steve’s back.

“What do you want Fury?” Steve repeated.

“I just want a little chat, is all. See how our notes compare,” Fury said. “You folks have been keeping me real busy this last week.”

Tony fumed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Oh, he was going to rip Steve a new one about this.

“If you wanted a meeting you could have just called. This level is for pack members only,” Steve said firmly.

Fury raised an eyebrow. “Really? I did not know that. Did you know that Coulson? Because I could have sworn I’ve been here before.”

“I was up here just last week,” Coulson said.

Behind them the elevator doors opened and a laughing Darcy and Jane got out.

“Woah- what the fuck?” Darcy demanded, wrinkling her nose at all the alpha pheromones.

“Sam- take Darcy and Jane to Bucky’s floor please,” Steve said.

“On it. Let’s go ladies,” Sam hustled them back into the elevator.

“Wait- what’s happening?” Darcy demanded as the door slid shut.

“Oh, I get it. Groupies only, huh?” Fury said, smirking.

Bucky snarled and lunged forward. “Don’t talk about my mate-”

Steve put an arm in front of him, blocking him. “Enough. If you want a meeting, we’ll have a meeting. Just not here.”

Fury considered them. “I can do that. There’s a conference room on the 40th floor. Is that neutral enough territory for you, Cap?”

“We’ll meet you there in 20,” Steve said.

Fury twitched an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn’t comment. “See you there Cap,” he said, and went back into the elevator with a dramatic trench coat swish like the secret diva that he was.

Steve didn’t relax until the elevator was well and truly away.

“What the hell Tony?” Bucky demanded. “I thought that elevator was secure!”

“It IS secure!” Tony protested. “Only authorized people can even get on it! And last time I checked, Fury is authorized. And what the _ hell _was that Steve?” he smacked his alpha’s arm indignantly. “Why are you pissing all over Fury? Since when is he on our shit list?”

“Coulson came sniffing around while Peter was sick. Was asking all the wrong questions,” Steve said.

“What sorts of questions?”

“He wanted to know why me and Bucky were on the guest floor, and some other things,” Steve said. “If he kept poking in the direction he was going, there was a risk he’d find out that Peter is an omega.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “So?”

Steve frowned at him. “Omegas aren’t allowed in combat, honey,” he said softly.

Tony blinked. “WHAT? What about Nat? They know she’s an omega-”

“I don’t get heats anymore,” Nat said softly. “I’m an exception.”

Tony made a face. “Stupid sexist-” he ranted.

“_ I know _. Which is why I decided to give us some extra distance for a while until things settle down.”

“Wait... if you didn’t know that would get you excluded, why haven’t you told Fury before now?” Clint asked, ever nosy.

“Because it’s not his fucking business, that’s why!” Tony snapped. As well as... other reasons. Like how he did not have a good history with alphas who knew he was an omega. He’d had a full blown screaming argument with Steve when he’d learned that he had told Bucky- though looking back he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. The two alphas probably knew each other’s condom sizes. Asking one to keep a secret from the other was an exercise in futility.

Though, to be honest, Tony had been the one mostly screaming. Steve had just sat there, being stupid and reasonable. Because he was annoying like that.

And then of course, once one of the pack (outside of Natasha) knew, then the ENTIRE pack knew, because they were worse than gossipy old biddies when it came to each other’s business.

“So... what are we going to tell Fury?” Natasha asked.

Steve frowned at a wall, thinking. “Alright-” he said, in his “I have a plan” voice.

20 minutes later the entire pack (sans Darcy, and Peter) trooped into the meeting room and took seats around a long rectangular table. They sat in pack order, Steve at the head, with Tony and Bucky at his sides, then by rank on either side. Bruce sat on Tony’s side to help even out the numbers. (And also because Tony had always thought of Bruce as “his”. He just let Steve pretend Bruce was under him.)

“So glad that you could join us,” Fury said, putting down his phone. Tony swore he heard the background music of Candy Crush for a moment before he turned it off.

“Fury,” Steve, the chosen headpiece, said. Clint was under strict orders that if he so much as squeaked out of turn Natasha would hide his favorite bow.

“Let’s start with the obvious. SHIELD is an ally of the pack, are we not?” Fury asked, in a reasonable tone.

“You are,” Steve said. Tony was impressed. He hadn’t even hesitated on that one.

“And allies share information with each other, do we not?”

“We do,” Steve agreed.

“So explain to me _ why _ Coulson here learned about you storming a high school in Queens over twitter? Actually- no. A better question would be why were you breaking into a high school in the first place?”

Steve didn’t so much as blink. “Tony received a distress call from Peter’s cell phone. He’d locked himself in a panic room and reported several people were trying to get in. He also reported that he was having trouble breathing. The call disconnected unexpectedly-”

Tony listened as Steve, the worst liar in the world, spun a yarn he’d just invented maybe 10 minutes ago. His quiet earnestness was impressive, and more importantly, Fury appeared to be falling for it. Tony suddenly wondered how Steve would do at poker. Why hadn’t they played poker yet? They should do that sometime.

He relaxed a little, and once it was clear that Steve was going full steam with no need for creative prompting, he dug out his StarkPad. He hated debriefings. He could feel Bucky’s glare from across the table, but ignored it.

Besides, him doodling and tapping on the damn thing was what he did at every debriefing. It would be fine. He scrolled through project ideas, but couldn’t find anything that was inspiring.

Eventually a quiet pop up appeared. “May I suggest you look at furniture for the Penthouse sir?” It was Jarvis, being psychic. Tony approved.

He’d forgotten about that. Odd. You’d think that sleeping on a mattress on the floor would make one eager to go shopping but... he’d never really liked furniture shopping.

Or did he not like furniture shopping because he’d never been able to pick things?

_ Huh. _

Jarvis, being perfect of course, already had several websites up for him to scroll through.

He looked at sofas for all of 5 seconds before deciding that he’d just get another one like the ones they had on the common floor. They were overstuffed monstrosities but they were fucking comfortable and could take a beating. And as a bonus, he knew Steve liked them. A quick note to Jarvis- and it would be delivered in a week.

That was easy.

Next up- that sunny spot where the piano had been. Would he want a mound of pillows like they had on the common floor? Another mattress? Maybe another sofa- one that could fold flat like he had in his workshop?

He was mindlessly scrolling when he spotted the hammock. It piqued his interest. One hammock themed google rabbit hole later, and he was circling several options on his screen, leaving it up to Jarvis to track them down and buy them. The ones he picked were nice and extra wide with plenty of room for blankets and pillows, and maybe Steve - if he asked nicely.

Okay... beds next?

He didn’t really want to buy that one without Steve’s input though. It felt... wrong to do so. But he could at least get a feel for what was out there, right?

He was scrolling through bedroom sets when his eye got caught on a little category link on the left of the screen. “Newly Mated Omega Section”, it said. He wasn’t exactly _ newly _ mated... but. Curious, he clicked on it. And for a second, he was cautiously optimistic, though he wasn’t sure why all of the headboards featured tufted fabric. Wouldn’t that get dirty or rip or something?

He scrolled down a bit, and felt his heart stop.

Matching cribs. They were selling cribs that matched the main bedroom set. Oh- and changing tables. And rockers.

_ Of course they were. _

And the cribs had little spaceship or princess sheets on them and those little spinny things that you hung over them to keep the kid entertained, and... and... the blankets!

There were little quilts that _ went with the sheets _.

Why did no one ever tell him that was a thing?

It was _ adorable. _

And the red one with gold teddy bears on it would be good for either a boy or a girl-

Wait.

Wait.

He caught himself in the middle of circling the damn thing.

What the absolute fuck was he doing? He didn’t need that! He wasn’t even pregnant, for god’s sake.

Or was he?

Nope. Not it. Definitely no.

But... he was looking at cribs. When, in his entire life, had he _ ever _ looked at a crib and thought, well... anything?

And now he was internally oohing over baby blankets.

_ WTF brain? _

Oh god. Was it a hormone nesting thing? Like how dogs and cats knew an earthquake was coming before the scientific instruments picked it up sort of thing? Like one day after a heat, an omega would just wake up and start hard core nesting and then BAM. Baby.

Was that a thing? He felt like it could be a thing.

Oh God... _ he could actually be pregnant. _

He slammed the StarkPad face down on the table like he’d been scalded.

“Tony?”

He was suddenly aware that everyone was staring at him. Right. He was in the middle of a debriefing and now he was going to have a panic attack for no apparent reason. Wonderful.

“Tony?” Steve repeated, now sounding worried.

“Sorry... I just... need some air or something...” he muttered, and stood up on wobbly legs- or at least tried to stand up. Steve scrambled, and was able to catch him before he hit the floor in a panting mess.

Natasha was there, and she put a finger to his neck. “Panic attack I think,” she said quietly.

“Tony? Can you hear me baby? I’ve got you. You’re fine.”

Oh god, he couldn’t get his breathing under control. He was going to actually die this time, wasn’t he?

“What the hell was he looking at?” Steve demanded.

_ Oh god- not that, not that- _

Thankfully, it was Natasha who picked up the pad and looked at it. Stared at it. With an almost out of body experience Tony watched as she very slowly turned to stare at him.

_ She knew. _

Of course she knew. She was Natasha, after all. She had figured out that he was an omega within a week of living at the Tower with him.

Stupid, stupid psychic Natasha.

Tony refused to look directly at her.

"Nat?" Steve demanded.

He heard her tsk.

“He was looking at some of Foster’s research about deep space,” she lied. “I think it triggered a flashback.”

How the fuck did she come up with this crap on the fly like that?

“Tony?” Steve asked, looking for confirmation.

Tony grimaced and wheezed, “I’m okay-”

And also - _ thank god _. He needed to buy her some shoes or something. Once he figured out this whole breathing thing, of course.

Steve swore, and picked him up. “Bucky- take over. I’m gonna put him to bed.”

Tony buried his face in Steve’s neck. Was it odd that his greatest source of comfort was also the main cause of his panic attack? He didn’t know.

Steve carried him all the way to the penthouse. Somewhere along the way Tony rediscovered breathing. Steve settled him gently on the mattress, then got him a Xanax and some orange juice from who the fuck knows where. Tony hesitated over the xanax.

“Come on, baby. Take it for me?” Steve asked, oh so sweetly. And Tony took it because he was a complete and utter idiot when Steve asked him to do things like that. Steve patiently piled pillows and blankets around him before kissing him on the forehead.

“I gotta go take care of this, okay baby? I’ll be back as soon as it’s over. I promise. Okay?”

Tony sniffed. “Go,” he managed. “I’ll live. Go razzle dazzle the bastard.”

Steve smiled gratefully at him, and gave him a chaste kiss. “Be back soon,” he said, then hurried off.

He listened as Steve walked through the penthouse and got onto the elevator. He laid there and stewed. He wasn’t sure how he felt. Was he angry because he’d stupidly managed to trigger his own panic attack? Was he angry because he’d been weak in front of Fury? Was he still panicking about the possible... small human situation? Or was he relieved that he was, at the very least, no longer in the stupid boring meeting?God he wished he knew. Right now he just felt... numb.

“Sir, I feel I must inform you that taking Xanax within the first months of pregnancy can cause serious birth defects-”

Tony had never moved so fast in his life. Within seconds he was in the bathroom, fingers down his throat.

He watched the stupid pill float in the toilet bowl. In an act of impulse he grabbed the bottle out of the cabinet and dumped the rest of them into the toilet before flushing them. For some reason he felt better once they were gone. He tossed the now empty bottle in the trash can and managed to get back into bed.

_ Holy fuck. _

What was he going to do?

He had no idea.

Jarvis played him soothing rain sounds while he cried himself to sleep.

.....

A hand touched his shoulder.

“Tony?”

Tony sniffled sleepily and rolled onto his back. Steve was there, leaning over him, his face a mask of deep concern. His alpha reached out and gently wiped at the tear tracks on Tony’s cheeks.

“_ Oh, sweetheart- _”

“I’m okay,” Tony said quickly. He honestly felt better after having a good cry. Tired. But better.

“I’m sorry. I should have stayed-”

“No- it’s okay-” Tony protested, as he took in his big, earnest alpha. Steve... Steve would make a great dad, a distant part of his brain thought suddenly.

Steve smiled sadly at him and went to kiss him on the forehead, but Tony intercepted him, and got him to kiss him on the lips.

When Steve finally separated from him, he seemed confused for some reason. “Tony- what-”

“Alpha?” Tony asked breathlessly. Steve snapped his mouth shut.

“Yeah baby?” he asked hopefully after a moment.

“Make me feel better?” Tony asked coyly and bared his neck, showing off his bond mark. It wasn’t his best line, admittedly. But he didn’t need his best line for Steve.

It was fascinating, Tony thought- watching an entire series of emotions flicker across Steve’s face before settling on hunger, complete with dilated pupils. It made him feel smug and powerful, knowing he could seduce the most powerful alpha on the planet with just a little flash of bare neck, an inviting smile and a cheesy line.

This time when Steve kissed him, it was anything but chaste.

Sometime later, Tony laid in bed, sweaty but content. A stray thought caught in his mind, and he critically examined the wall behind him. And yep- right THERE- was a hand print. Several in fact.

He examined them thoughtfully- and yes, they belonged to Steve. One of them might be his, but it was hard to tell. That one was smudged beyond all recognition.

“I knew it-” he said suddenly.

“Knew what?” Steve said distantly, mostly face down on the mattress next to him.

“You put your hands on the wall,” Tony complained.

Steve considered this, then grunted. He somehow made it sound questioning.

“You put your big sweaty alpha hands all over the wall- if we get a headboard with fabric on it, it’ll be destroyed in like a week,” Tony explained. “We’ll have to get one that’s just solid wood.”

Steve dug his face out of the mattress to look at him. He looked a bit incredulous.

“What?” Tony demanded.

“That’s what you got out of that? Really?” the alpha sounded a bit hurt.

Tony huffed. “Yes dear, you were amazing. 10 stars. Definitely would do again,” he said with as little sarcasm as possible and gave his ridiculous alpha a kiss. “And don’t pout. It doesn’t suit you,” he lied. For a damn near-giant, the man could pout better than a puppy.

Tony paused. “And I do feel better. Thank you,” he added softly.

Steve looked moderately happier.

“How did the meeting go? Did Fury buy it?”

Steve smirked. “Hook, line and sinker,” he said, then frowned. “But Bruce had to tell Fury that Peter’s ‘episode’ would likely repeat.”

“How the hell did he explain that?”

Steve sighed. “He framed it like his ‘hulk’ episodes. Inevitable, but controllable 90% of the time. He blamed the spider DNA being faulty and ‘fritzing out’ in response to something he took at lunch. We all agreed to keep the kid off the roster for a few months until he’s stabilized or we have a better plan for him.”

It was Tony’s turn to frown. “Does he really need to be benched?”

“I talked to Bruce and Cho afterwards. Apparently he turned violent during his heat. Even tried to break down the door at one point. Screamed his head off. They’re not sure if it’s a one time thing or-”

“Jesus Christ. Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me or the Aunt? She should know-”

“The meeting got interrupted halfway through because of Peter’s accident, remember? Then you got in a screaming match with her. It fell through the cracks. They felt the heart issues were more pressing. Anyway- they’re afraid that with the hormone imbalance and things his next heat might happen unexpectedly or even early. It’s possible his cycle might be shorter or longer than a normal omega’s. We just don’t know.”

Tony winced. “I _ knew _ it. The kid _ cannot _ go back to that school Steve. It’s not safe!”

“I know. But she’s his guardian, Tony. She wants him to stay ‘normal’. I get that. There’s not much we can do, other than make sure the people involved are all fired.”

Tony rubbed his face. “Pepper’s already on it. She sicced my lawyers on it while we were on vacation. But if he tried to break down the door- we need a reinforced heat room- THEY need a reinforced heat room. There’s no way they’d make it here in time if-”

Steve nodded. “I’ll talk to Clint. Get him to map out some emergency landing places next to his house, just in case something happens before we get it sorted. We can put him in the hulk room-”

“NO.”

Steve looked surprised at Tony’s vehemence.

“That place has windows and _ cameras _, Steve,” Tony hissed. “He’s a MINOR. I will NOT have child porn on my fucking servers-”

Steve looked horrified. “I... that didn’t even occur to me-”

“We’ll just use the room we did last time. It held, didn’t it?”

“Apparently Sam had to tell him to get away from the door. Peter didn’t like it very much, but obeyed.”

Tony stared at him, horrified. “He told him, or _ told _him to stay away from the door?”

“He used his alpha voice through the door, yes.”

“Oh god. No. We are _ not _ doing that again.”

Steve looked equally unhappy. “I’m not going to discipline him,” he said. “He was trying to keep the people in the medbay safe-”

“I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it,” Tony grumbled, then let out an unhappy sigh.

“I need to get to my workshop. Work on some blueprints,” he said, and sat up.

“Wait-”

Tony turned to look at Steve. The alpha somehow looked mischievous and hopeful at the same time. “What?” Tony asked, suddenly uncertain.

“You gonna work all sweaty like that?”

Tony looked at himself. “I guess I do need a shower...” he trailed off as Steve suggestively waggled his eyebrows.

“What... oh my god!” Tony whacked Steve with a pillow. “You’re just insatiable, you know that?”

“It’ll save water!” Steve protested, and easily wrestled the pillow out of Tony’s grip before pulling the omega in for a playful kiss.

“No!” Tony protested, and smacked Steve’s chest in protest “I’ve had shower sex before and it is not at all as hot as you’d think-”

“I won’t let you fall,” Steve said. “I’ll make sure to hold you nice and firm against that wall-” he rumbled directly into Tony’s ear.

Tony felt his heart skip a beat. That... well. This was Steve. He could probably do it. Right?

Steve aggressively nibbled an earlobe.

Tony broke. “Fine,” he said, sounding slightly strangled. “But if I break a leg you’re carrying me the entire time I have a cast.”

“Yes dear,” Steve said, grinning triumphantly.

“And stop being smug about it,” Tony complained as Steve nonchalantly gathered him off the bed and carried him towards the bathroom.

Steve chuckled, and his smile doubled.

Jesus Christ, his mate was such a _dumb_ _alpha_, Tony thought fondly.


	27. The Gang Goes Shopping / Peter Hits on Deadpool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Yes, the title is accurate. Hang onto your butts and also get some snacks. This chapter is going to be a bit all over the place and it’s long as hell. 
> 
> Tags: Panic attacks, a pervert, attempted kidnapping, Peter whump, like 90% fluff since I’m not a total monster, and the pervert gets his ass handed to him, so... violence maybe?, Being drugged without consent, Oh- and Deadpool Being Deadpool. (and a partridge in a pear tree)

Peter sulked in the passenger seat. “I thought we were going somewhere special,” he protested as they pulled into the Tower’s parking garage.

“We were supposed to. But there’s been a change of plans. Dr. Banner wants to run those tests-”

“TESTS?” Peter protested, way too loud.

“Calm down. They just want to make sure that your heart is working properly.”

“But I thought Bruce did that months ago!” Peter complained. “I had to get on a treadmill in the gym and run for ages-” he bitched.

“Well, they definitely won’t be doing that,” May said.

Peter sighed, and sulked harder, sinking down in his seat.

“Don’t be a toddler,” May said sharply.

Peter snorted, but did not stick his tongue out at her. He HATED tests. They made him feel like a lab rat. Especially the ones where he had to run and jump or catch things.

He sulked all the way to the MedBay.

“Morning Peter,” Dr. Banner said cheerfully.

“Am I gonna have to run again?” Peter demanded, grumpy.

The older beta smiled. “No. It’s going to be worse.” “Worse?” How could it possibly be worse?

“You’re going to have to lay still.”

Peter snorted. “That’ll be easy,” he protested.

“We’ll see,” May said. She didn’t sound like she believed him.

“What? I can! It’s just laying still. Anyone can do that,” he protested.

They made him take his shirt off and lay on his left side on a gurney.

“So, Peter- this is Rose. She’s going to be doing the echocardiogram today,” Dr. Banner said.

Peter scrunched up his nose. “Echo... cardio... something to do with my heart?”

“It’s an ultrasound machine,” Rose said, and showed him the probe. “I press this all over your chest and get good pictures of your heart and all the valves and stuff.”

Well that didn’t sound so bad.

“Did you pee this morning Peter?” Bruce asked.

Peter flushed. “Yes-” he said irritated. Jesus. Would he never live that down?

“In that case I’m going to need you to drink this,” he said, and pulled out a giant 32 ounce cup of water from apparently nowhere. Peter knew it was 32 ounces because it had little lines with labels on it.

“What? Now? The whole thing?” Peter asked, profoundly confused.

“We’re going to do a scan of your lower abdomen as well,” Bruce said. “You’ll need a full bladder for Rose to get proper images.”

Peter eyed the cup. He’d had Big Gulps before. Well. Not all at once. But he could drink it.

He managed half of it before he started to feel a bit sick. He pulled a face.

“It’s alright Peter. You can finish it later,” Bruce said.

The gel Rose slathered on his chest was cold and sticky, and the machine made a weird whooshing noise. On any other day he’d be fascinated and asking a million questions.

But right now he wanted the damn thing to be over with so he could go home.

It also took _ ages _.

May was of absolutely no help whatsoever- she was sitting in a corner reading a book. The clock on a nearby wall ticked, mocking him. He watched the hands on it move. Occasionally Rose would stop and make him drink more.

“Peter- you need to lay still honey,” Rose said gently.

“I am-” he protested.

“You’re shaking the entire gurney, sweetheart,” Rose said.

Peter looked down. His right leg was at it again, and she was right. The entire gurney was gently vibrating. He hadn’t even noticed. He huffed, and willed the leg to be still.

Rose smiled at him in amusement and prodded him some more.

UGH. He clamped his jaw shut. He would NOT whine like a spoiled brat. He was laying down. It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t hurting. There was absolutely _ nothing _ to complain about.

If she didn’t hurry up he’d rip the damn wand off the machine. What the hell was she looking for anyway? The Ark of the Covenant?

“Hey there Kiddo- how’s it going?”

Peter nearly melted with relief as Tony walked into the exam room. He turned his best “rescue me” eyes on.

Tony gave Peter a crooked smile. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s going well. Almost done,” Rose said.

“Finally-” Peter complained.

“I meant almost done with this part. We’ll do your abdomen next,” Rose said with another amused smile.

Peter groaned. “Do we have to?”

“Here. Take this. Watch netflix or something,” Tony said and handed over a tablet.

“Oh my god, Tony I love you-” Peter babbled as he gratefully took the device.

Tony snorted, and took a seat next to May.

“All done!” Rose said, and wiped the gel off his chest. “Now lay on your back and shift your pants down a bit-”

Peter flushed, and adjusted his pants. “Good?”

“That’s fine. You’ll feel some extra pressure. But just like the chest- this won’t hurt at all.”

He still braced a bit. The gel was fucking cold. And she was right. It was more uncomfortable than what she’d done on his chest but...

He felt weird. Like, almost jittery. He ignored it, and tried to flick his way through the Netflix queue.

She moved the wand down further. Peter gritted his teeth.

“Sweetheart, you need to relax,” Rose said.

He tried to unclench. He did. But... she was _ touching _ his stomach. And he just absolutely did NOT like it. He tried to power through it. It was stupid. It was just his belly. Who cared if she... just... would... _ not stop _ TOUCHING IT.

“Sir, Peter’s heart rate is spiking,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

“Peter, are you okay?” Tony asked.

_ getoffgetoffgetoffgetoff _

“Peter, I’m right here. Can you hear me?” someone was holding his hand. It sounded like May.

He whined. He was shaking. Why was he shaking?

“Jarvis- get one of the pack alphas down here NOW-” Tony was saying.

“Sweetheart it’s okay. We’ve stopped. The machine’s off. You’re safe,” May was saying. She sounded like she was upset? Why was she upset?

He blinked and someone big and warm was crammed next to him in bed. “Shhh...” a wrist was shoved in his face. He got a big whiff of woodsmoke and coffee. _ Steve. _

Steve was here. He was the pack alpha. Everything would be fine. Steve was here. Peter felt himself relax.

“St’ve?” Peter mumbled.

“I’ve got you. You okay?”

“Don... don like it,” he slurred.

“Don’t like what?”

“She... she _ touched _me-” he whined.

For a brief second he got a lungful of pure alpha anger. It made him tremble a bit again.

“Tony?!” Steve demanded, rumbling.

“I was right here! It was a medical exam! She was touching his stomach- he still has his pants on-” Tony babbled.

Steve relaxed. “She get a bit too close to something honey?” he asked kindly. “Give you a bit of a scare?”

“Don LIKE it,” Peter whined.

“We’ve stopped, okay? Just breathe for a bit, okay?”

Peter hummed, and Steve ran his fingers through Peter’s hair.

It took a couple of minutes, but eventually Peter felt like he could breathe again.

“I’m sorry-” Peter said, feeling a bit ashamed. He’d just freaked out for literally no reason... what the fuck was WRONG with him?

“It’s fine kid-” Tony said. “You wanna tell us what freaked you out so much?”

Peter hunched in on himself a bit.

“Hey- it’s okay,” Steve said, and pulled Peter in a bit closer to him.

“It’s stupid,” he muttered.

“If it freaks you out, it’s not stupid. And if you tell us, we can make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright?” May said.

“I...” Peter huffed. Everyone waited. “She- she was touching my stomach, okay? I... I really didn’t like it. It’s... like I said, it’s stupid-”

Steve frowned. “Your stomach? Like here-” Steve reached down, his hand pressing down on Peter’s bare belly for less than a second-

Peter snarled and hissed like a cornered cat, and literally kicked Steve off the gurney and into the nearest wall. Steve hit it, bounced off, and landed in a heap on the floor, putting a sizable dent in the wall in the process.

Everyone froze.

“Ohmygodohmygod-” Peter babbled, feeling the color drain from his face. He’d just kicked his pack leader across the room. And into a _ wall _. Oh god... oh god...

“_ You IDIOT! _ He literally _ just said _ not to touch him there!” Tony barked angrily, and stormed over so he could sharply smack Steve with a StarkPad on his shoulder like you would a bad dog with a newspaper. “Now you’ve dented the wall! What have I _ told you _ about denting walls in the MedBay?” Tony demanded, nearly incandescent in his fury, and smacked him again.

Peter was fairly sure he heard the Starkpad screen crack.

Steve sat up, and threw up an arm to prevent further smacking. “Okay- okay-” he sounded a little breathless. “That one was on me.”

“Now hurry up and apologize before he freaks out again,” Tony demanded.

Steve flushed, and stood. “Peter, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You okay kid?” Tony asked.

Peter stared at them with wide eyes. “I’m sorry!” he blurted.

“Don’t be. You’re not in trouble. He shouldn’t have done that,” Tony said grimly. “If you don’t like to be touched there, people shouldn’t touch you there. Period.”

“Everything all right in here?” Cho asked, sticking her head in. “Rose said there was a problem?”

“Kid doesn’t like his stomach being touched. Freaked out during the ultrasound,” Tony said.

Cho immediately went to Peter’s bedside. “I’m so sorry about that. Are you feeling better now Peter?”

Peter nodded. “I’m sorry. I know- it’s stupid...” he cringed.

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not stupid. Many omegas don’t like their stomachs touched. I should have asked you before we started.”

“Really? It’s just... I’ve never- it’s never bothered me before? I don’t think?” Peter said, uncertain. He couldn’t remember the last time someone tried to touch his stomach.

She gave a small smile. “It’s not a surprise, really. Omegas have a stronger instinct-response than betas and even some alphas,” she said. “And you do have some pretty important organs down there.”

She turned to talk to Tony, and did a double take at the wall. “What on earth?”

“That’s my fault. I touched him after he said not to and he rightly kicked me into a wall,” Steve said with a grimace. “I wasn’t even thinking.”

She sighed, turned back to Peter and gave him a smile. “And that, my dear, is exhibit A in why omegas have such strong instinct-responses,” she said ruefully.

Tony snorted. Steve flushed.

“The good news is that the lower exam isn’t strictly necessary right now. But I would highly recommend you get it done.”

“I’m not putting him in distress for an ultrasound,” May said.

“And we can’t risk giving him a Valium,” Tony said.

Cho smiled. “There’s ways around that.”

20 minutes later Sam and Steve had Peter firmly wedged between them on a significantly larger gurney.

“I dunno man, this feels weird,” Sam complained.

“You’re not the sardine,” Peter bitched. “You guys need to lose weight or something.”

“The faster we do it, the faster it’ll be over with,” Steve said. “You ready Sam?”

“No. Are you sure Bucky can’t do it? He’d be better at this than both of us-”

“The Sergeant is currently occupied with Lady Barnes. I was told not to disturb them for anything less than a nuclear attack,” Jarvis said primly from the ceiling.

Sam huffed. “Jesus Christ I could have lived to be a hundred without knowing that,” he complained.

“Who’s Lady Barnes?” Peter complained.

“Darcy. She’s going a bit overboard with the whole ‘Jarvis will call you whatever thing’,” Tony huffed. “Will you two get on with it already?”

“Alright on three... one, two-” Steve said.

Both alphas leaned in hard on Peter and started to rumble.

The world faded away. Someone- Steve probably- scruffed him. It was weird- it was like someone pressed an off switch on his central nervous system. One moment he was in control of his limbs and the next someone had a firm hold of the back of his neck and suddenly he couldn’t quite feel his fingers or toes anymore.

Fingers firmly but gently pressed inwards on both of his scent glands at the same time. Held there.

He didn’t just float, he orbited.

Somewhere- something was touching him. It was cold.

_ He did not give a single rat’s ass. _

It was nice here, he thought distantly, but did not think of much else. His brain was mostly cotton candy, and rapidly approaching hot mush.

Several eons later Peter tried to pry his face out a puddle of drool.

“Ughhh...” he said intelligently.

“Sleep it off sweetheart,” May said, and ruffled his hair.

He dreamed of better web shooter designs and something that looked suspiciously like calculus but with weird symbols that shifted color and shape depending on how you looked at them.

Peter inhaled sharply, and sat up. He felt oddly refreshed and... calm?

“Welcome back kid,” Tony said from a nearby chair, his eyes never leaving his StarkPad. “You see Jesus up there?”

“I saw math,” Peter said without thinking.

Tony paused, and looked up from his StarkPad. “What kind of math?” he asked, frowning.

Peter shrugged. “The symbols kept changing. But... calculus I think?” Peter rubbed his face, making sure it was still there. “Did it work? Did they get what they needed?”

“Huh,” Tony said, thoughtful, then shook himself. “Oh yes. It worked. Almost too well. Your breathing slowed down enough it scared us for a bit.”

“I feel fine,” Peter said.

“Good. Because we’re going shopping.”

Peter frowned. “Shopping?”

“A little birdie told me that you emptied out the entire linen closet and stole sofa cushions to sleep with last night,” Tony said, like he was discussing the weather.

Peter was fairly sure his face was the same shade of a tomato. “I...”

Tony waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us. Point is, both Darcy and I, and apparently you, are all in desperate need of things for our... nests.” Tony said it like it was a foreign word. “So, therefore- shopping will happen.”

Peter tried to tame what he was fairly sure was a bird’s nest of hair on the top of his head with his fingers. “Where’s May?”

“She got called in for another shift an hour ago. Said I could ‘go crazy’ so long as nothing I get explodes.”

“Um... okay?”

“You hear that Jarvis? Rally the troops. We’re heading out.”

10 minutes later Peter was in the back of a packed stretch limo. It was probably the most underrated skill the Avengers had, he thought, amused. Any other group would still be dawdling in the parking lot for like 30 minutes as people popped back for “one more thing” or waiting for that one dude who just could not find his pants that morning or whatever (there’s ALWAYS one of those in a group.)

Instead, Tony just... gave an order and everyone just dropped what they were doing and _ showed up. _Without even any arguing- there wasn’t even a 15 minute discussion about what cars they were going to take, or who was going to drive, or who was going to ride with who- Happy just pulled up in a stretch limo and everyone piled in without blinking an eye.

“Where are we going again?” Steve asked.

“Shopping,” Natasha said.

“Wait... why am I here?” Clint demanded.

“Someone has to carry the bags,” Natasha said calmly.

Clint visibly wilted and groaned. “_ Come on. _...” he whined. “I had stuff I was going to do today!”

“Doing target practice for 3 hours doesn’t count,” Bucky said.

“Come on- Sam- please tell me you don’t want to be here.”

Sam shrugged. “As long as Tony’s paying for it, I don’t give a damn. Plus I need like, underwear man.”

“We’re going furniture shopping,” Tony said.

“That’s cool. I need a bookcase too,” Sam said amenably.

Clint huffed. “Why isn’t Bruce here?” he whined.

“Because he has actual important work to do- like finding drugs that won’t kill Peter,” Tony said sharply. “That and I asked him and he said he’d pass,” he added.

“Remind me that Jane needs like a desk and as many bookcases as they have in stock,” Darcy said to Bucky. “And one of those couches that goes flat for her lab.”

“Hmm...” Bucky said noncommittally.

Darcy frowned at him. “You have a bad memory?” she asked.

He hesitated. “Unreliable sometimes,” he said, clearly uncomfortable.

She frowned some more. “It’s fine. Don’t be all grumpy about it- it’s not a big deal. Jane can’t remember birthdays even if you held a gun to her head,” she said, and dug through her Bag. Eventually she emerged with a notepad and a pen.

“Bookcases, desk, sofa- underwear for Sam-” she muttered as she wrote.

“Are you really writing this down?” Tony demanded, offended. “What is this, the 1800s?”

“Hey. Don’t knock the system man,” Darcy said. “After SHIELD took all of our equipment I managed to put all of Jane’s data back together just from the sticky notes and napkin doodles they thought were trash. Plus EMPs can’t touch this-” she said, and waved the book.

Bucky beamed at her. “You’re so clever, doll,” he cooed, smitten.

She beamed back. “It’s so nice for someone to finally notice!”

Clint made quiet gagging noises. Natasha kicked him.

“They can’t help it,” she said. “Besides, you shouldn’t make fun of the disabled.”

That got a quick snarl from Bucky.

“Settle,” Steve barked. “Natasha?”

She sighed. “Sorry Bucky,” she said, but she didn’t sound sorry.

Steve narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’m gonna help Darcy pick out her blankets, okay? Back off,” she grumbled.

“Hmm,” Steve said, but didn’t push it further.

The limo pulled to a stop. “Everyone out, we’re here,” Tony said.

“What- already?” Darcy said, surprised.

“Yep.”

“Tony, we could have walked,” Steve said, exasperated.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Walk? In New York? Yeah, how about no.”

They piled out.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked.

Tony didn’t answer and instead pulled on an unlabeled door. “This way,” he said cryptically.

They filed in after him.

“Mr. Stark!” a woman at a plain receptionist desk immediately leapt to her feet.

Tony flashed a paparazzi smile at her. “Carol,” he said, “I’m redecorating the Penthouse,” he said. “And my friends here might need a few things too.”

Her smile grew several sizes. “Of course! I’ll show you to the showroom!”

“Tony- where are we?” Bucky hissed.

“It’s a furniture place. Relax,” he said dismissively.

They all followed him and Carol through a door and into...

Well. It was a place. Most of it was white. There were... things in it? (Also mostly white). Peter would swear he’d seen several episodes of the original Star Trek that started like this- Kirk and Spock would beam down to an alien planet and there would be green women dressed in togas leaning on objects that were supposed to be furniture? Maybe?

It was like that. But the women weren’t green. Or wearing togas. They were just... there. Tastefully dressed and beaming too-bright smiles at them as they took turns talking about how great the “latest shipment from Italy” was. Peter wasn’t quite sure. Everyone was more or less ignoring him.

Gentle harp music played from somewhere. It was very tasteful and very boring.

The fountains were. Well. There were fountains. Inside. Peter was pretty sure that fountains belonged outside but maybe rules didn’t apply to rich people? And these ones didn’t have angels or nearly naked people on them at all, like proper fountains should. Instead they were just like a series of bowls/plates with water pouring down them. Or a white stone box that just sort of gently leaked water out of a hole in the top like the world’s worst designed drinking fountain. It was disappointing. He _ liked _ a good fountain.

In short, everything was... delicate. And expensive. And... Jesus Christ was that a crystal flower arrangement? Peter examined it the best he could from about a foot away, trying desperately to not even breathe on the stupid thing in the process. Still- he wondered- did they somehow manage to grow them like that or-

“If you break it you buy it.”

Peter nearly leapt out of his skin, then turned to glare at Clint. “Not funny, man!” he hissed.

Clint sniggered. “Come on. Relax. Tony could probably buy this whole place out like two times over.”

Peter frowned at him, then looked pointedly at what looked like a solid gold letter opener that was in it’s own crystal display case next to the crystal roses on the display writing desk that looked as if it was barely supporting itself on it’s tiny spindly white legs.

Clint joined him in looking.

There appeared to be diamonds in the hilt part of it.

“Okay, maybe- maybe back a little bit more away from the flowers, yeah?” Clint said.

Peter had heard him less concerned about actual bombs, but Peter was in agreement with Clint here, and carefully backed away.

The not-green women had retreated apparently, to do whatever it is they did, because for a split second, the Avengers were alone in the display room.

“Tony-” Bucky hissed. Steve was off looking with interest at some sort of thing with drawers in it. Sam stood next to him. He had an expression on his face that Peter felt he shared- like he was an observer on an alien planet.

“What?”

“None of this is going to last you like 2 minutes in the Tower,” he said.

Tony frowned. “What?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at him. “I know you’re rich. But seriously. Steve’s gonna break the bed the first time he farts on it-”

“Hey-” Steve protested from across the room.

“Nevermind the first time you go on vacation,” he said, ignoring him. “This stuff... I mean... it’s good to look at I guess, but-”

“Can you even use a solid gold letter opener?” Peter asked. “Isn’t gold like super soft? Wouldn’t you bend it with just like the heat of your hand?”

“The kid’s right. It’s useless. Can’t even stab someone with it,” Clint agreed.

Natasha sighed. “I also think this is... not us Tony. Where did you even find a place like this?”

Tony frowned. “I dunno. This is always were Pepper shopped-”

“I thought you didn’t like the things in the penthouse,” Steve said rejoining them.

Tony looked frustrated. “What? I don’t know! Where else do you buy furniture? They do commission work-”

“There’s a thrift shop that specializes in furniture in Brooklyn,” Darcy said. “It’s got good reviews on Yelp and ThriftMe.”

Everyone crowded around her phone.

“Now see- THAT is a bed-” Bucky said. The piece in question looked like it had been chainsawed out of some sort of ancient tree trunk you saw in old black and white photos that was wider than 5 men standing abreast.

“Guess we’re going to Brooklyn,” Natasha said.

They went to Brooklyn.

The thrift shop was called “The Attic”, and it smelled like cedar and rosewood. Peter knew as soon as the little bell tinkled as they opened the door to get inside that this- this was more their speed.

It was crammed wall to wall with just wood. In all of it’s forms. Nightstands standing on dressers with a chair on top, forming a pyramid of wobbliness. Bed frames leaning against walls. It was a Where’s Waldo of wood furniture.

Peter loved it- and so did everyone else because they all instantly scattered, hands trailing along walls of carefully balanced piles down the little paths that you could barely walk through because of all the just... stuff.

Peter was the first to find a treasure. “Tony!” he called out, and the man appeared a moment later.

“What you got there Pete?” he asked.

“It’s so cool! It’s got constellations on it!” a giant box with intricate carvings of stars formed the base of a tower of various chests. It was big enough that Peter could curl up in it if he wanted to- and it was the perfect size to fit at the end of his bed.

“Isn’t that a hope chest?” Natasha asked, appearing out of thin air.

Peter frowned at her. “A hope chest?”

“It’s traditional. The family would make one for an omega and fill it with things for when they got mated. Like blankets,” Steve said, peering around at them from a nearby corner- the pathway was too narrow for him to join them.

“I could put blankets in it!” Peter said, excited. It sounded much better than his original idea of storing his lab notebooks and his microscope in it.

Well. He could probably still put those things in it and put the blankets on top. It was a huge box after all.

“Steve go get someone-” Tony said.

“On it-” he said, and disappeared.

“Good find. You see anything else you want, you speak up, okay?” Tony said.

From the other side of the store there was a shrill squeal of delight.

“Sounds like Darcy found something,” Natasha said, amused.

Tony snorted. “I’m surprised, honestly. How on earth do you find anything in this-” he trailed off, and did a double take at something barely visible from a landing just behind them. “Is that- fuck... how do I get over there?”

Peter looked up and over. There was some sort of metal... if he tilted his head just right he could see the light reflected off something shiny.

“Hang on,” Peter said, and climbed the tower of boxes like a circus monkey.

“For fuck’s sake Peter!” Tony protested. “Be careful- do NOT fall-”

Peter ignored him, and scouted the little pathways around the shop. “Okay, so... go out that way-” Peter pointed. “And take the second left and there’s like a stairway.”

“On it,” Natasha said, and headed for the stairs.

“Get down before someone yells at us,” Tony insisted, and Peter hopped down.

“Chill out man. It’s fine.” Peter complained.

“Just don’t die in a furniture avalanche. It’s all that I’m asking today,” Tony bitched, and went to follow Natasha. “Your aunt would kill me.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You really think my Aunt could kill Iron Man?”

“I think she’d shiv Steve in his sleep,” Tony grumbled. “Then drown me in my own coffee, and Natasha would help her,” he said.

Peter scowled at him in confusion. “What- why would Natasha help her?”

“She would if you were dead,” he said calmly. “So please don’t be stupid.”

“He’s right. But I would only do it if you really deserved it,” Natasha said, popping back from around a corner. “It’s up here.”

Jesus Christ, his life was so fucking weird sometimes, Peter thought.

The thing on the tiny landing that had caught Tony’s eye was a giant monster of a king sized four poster bed, with each of the posts almost as big around as Peter’s thigh. But it was the wrought iron that was the most impressive. Someone had twisted it around and through the honeyed wood posts as well as the head and footboard.

It reminded Peter of a vine that had grown up, twisted around a wrought iron frame, but in reverse- where the iron was the alive thing, growing up and around the wood like a trellis.

In some places the iron had what looked like some sort of faded gold gilding on it. Most of it had been worn away to leave the black behind.

“Oh Tony- it’s beautiful,” Natasha breathed.

Tony reached out a hand and touched it, almost reverently.

“Tony?” That was Steve, below them.

“Up here!” Tony called down. “There’s a set of stairs somewhere!”

Surprisingly it didn’t take Steve long to find them.

“What- holy shit,” Steve murmured when he saw the bed frame. “You like this one, sweetheart?”

Tony, still staring at it like a parent at a long lost child, nodded.

“We’ll get it,” Steve said. “It’s perfect.” He enveloped the omega in a hug from behind and kissed Tony’s hair.

“Good luck getting a nightstand to go with it, though,” Natasha said.

“Jarvis will find out who made it,” Tony said firmly, shrugging Steve off. “If he’s still alive he’s about to become a _ very _ rich man. I want everything he’s ever made,” he said, and started taking pictures of the bed frame with his phone. “Did you hear that Jarvis?”

“I’m already working on it sir,” Jarvis said from Tony’s phone speaker.

“Good.”

They stayed for a couple of hours, exploring, before Steve called it and regrouped them at the entrance with an ear shattering whistle.

“Did everyone find what they need?” Steve asked.

“I still need bookcases. The stuff here is great, but it’s not exactly my vibe,” Sam said.

“Same here. I still need things for Jane’s lab,” Darcy said.

“Well, it’s lunch time. How about we break for something to eat and we’ll talk about where we’re going next,” Steve said.

“Actually... I have an idea-” Sam said.

30 minutes later they were piling out of the limo and into an IKEA parking lot.

“Are you sure you want to get something here?” Tony complained. “I thought you wanted like, quality stuff.”

“Stop dissing the Swedish,” Sam said.

“I thought you’d like it here Tony,” Darcy said. “Have you never heard of hacking IKEA?”

Tony scoffed at her. “Why would I hack a furniture store?” he asked dismissively.

“Not the _ store_,” Darcy rolled her eyes. “The _ furniture_. The parts are all pretty much interchangeable. So you take like a couple of bookcases, a lamp and a bedframe and you can make like a kickass little fort castle thing for kids, or stairs that lead up to your lofted bed that double as bookshelves,” Darcy said. “That sort of thing.”

Tony stopped scowling, and dug out his phone. “Show me this furniture hacking thing, Jarvis,” he demanded and started aggressively scrolling.

“Are you sure we can get food here?” Bucky asked skeptically. “I thought they sold furniture.”

“They have a little cafe thing inside too,” Sam said. “You gotta try the meatballs, man. They’re good.”

“I’ve always wanted to come here,” Peter said, bouncing a bit in excitement. “I heard their hot dogs aren’t bad either.”

Bucky brightened considerably. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent hot dog,” he said.

“Just leave some for the rest of us,” Clint complained.

“You guys will love it,” Darcy said. “IKEA is amazing.”

Tony ended up buying just the entire tray of meatballs and half of the hotdogs they had on display to save time. The staff was kind enough to give them a set of plates, and they set up shop around a couple of tables shoved together.

It felt a little like a Sunday dinner night at the tower, Peter thought, as he sat crammed between Tony and Natasha. Everyone else pretty much sat in their usual ranked spots, with the exception of Darcy, who’d parked herself in Bucky’s lap. Occasionally they fed each other things off their forks. It was disgusting, really. He did his best to ignore it.

At least the meatballs were good.

Peter watched the gooey couple out of the corner of his eye and wondered if his alpha would do that with him one day. They looked... happy.

His alpha... he wondered if he would ever find one. Did he have a fated mate like Darcy and Bucky? Or would he have to find one the hard way like Steve and Tony had?

Or would he be alone like Natasha?

His gaze flickered to her, but quickly skittered away. The older omega _ seemed _ happy to be alphaless, but... he sometimes wondered if she was lonely.

Would... could he even _ have _ an alpha? Tony had one, but Steve- well. He was _ Steve _. Peter was fairly sure there wasn’t another Steve on the entire planet, never mind the whole serum thing.

Plus there was the fact that Peter wasn’t... wasn’t... curvy. Or... well. Let’s be real. He had a dick. What the hell kind of alpha would want an omega with a dick when there were literally billions of omegas of all shapes and sizes who- well. Didn’t have dicks. Anyone who would be able to keep up with the pack (and Peter’s alpha would have to do so, probably) would be spoiled for choices.

So.... why the fuck would they want... _ him _?

He stabbed a meatball, suddenly annoyed with himself. Here he was, out with the pack on a pretty day and he was just... ruining it-

“So, we need bookcases and a sofa for Jane’s lab...” Darcy said, cutting into his thoughts, and digging out her list. “Did you find your bedroom stuff at the Attic?” she asked Steve.

“We found a bed. Peter found a hope chest too,” Steve said around a mouth full of meatballs.

“Does anyone else need things for their little kitchen areas?” she asked, scribbling notes. “I could use a dish rack,” Natasha said.

“How are we going to get this stuff home?” Clint asked. “Last time I looked that limo didn’t exactly have trunk space to spare.”

“They deliver these days,” Darcy said. “It’s stupid expensive, but if Tony’s paying-”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Knock yourselves out,” he said.

“Does anyone know what happened to all the spoons in the common kitchen?” Sam asked. “There’s like no spoons left whenever I want one.”

Everyone looked at Clint.

“What?” he demanded.

“Stop hoarding them,” Natasha scolded him. “And return the bowls when you’re done with your cereal already.”

“They’re not moldy! I wash them out! I’m not a pig-” he protested.

“Yes. But that means _ they’re not in the cabinets_, dude,” Darcy complained. “Eating soup out of a coffee cup is something I stopped enjoying doing in college. Now it’s just depressing.”

“Just buy like a million bowls already,” Tony said.

Darcy and Natasha eyed each other. “It’s not the worst idea,” Darcy said. “And we’re going through the kitchen section anyway-”

“Add it,” Natasha said.

Darcy scribbled. “Someone’s going to need to grab a couple of carts,” she said. “If we’re going to clean them out of dishware I don’t want to have to carry that stuff.”

“Can’t we just get it delivered?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, but I want bowls for tonight,” Darcy complained.

“I second the buying bowls now,” Sam said.

Sam, Clint and Peter found themselves on cart duty. Fortunately, Darcy was a woman who knew what she wanted, and seemed to know her way around the maze of the store with little trouble.

She bounced on a couple of sofas before declaring one the winner and writing it’s number down. The same thing happened for the book cases. The Billy Bookcase was apparently ‘A Thing’, and the only thing that mattered was what finish they wanted and how many they could cram into the space in question.

They stood there, talking measurements for 10 minutes before Clint cracked and suggested they just buy 10 of everything and return what they didn’t use. Thankfully for Peter’s sanity they agreed to it. While the store was interesting, there were only really so many variations of a bookcase you can look at before becoming bored.

Darcy also got a new kitchen table and chair set to go with it.

“What happened to your old table?” Tony demanded. “I thought all the kitchens were fully stocked-”

“It broke,” Bucky said blandly. For some reason Darcy turned red.

“Yes. Well._ It won’t happen again _,” Darcy said meaningfully, glaring at Bucky.

His smile said “Whatever you say dear”, while also somehow being full of shit.

“I’ll be more careful next time,” he said sweetly.

She looked horrified. “Not on IKEA, you won’t!” she said. “You’ll be ‘more careful’ on the countertop, not my new table!” she snapped, smacking his shoulder with her notebook.

“Whatever you want, doll,” he said, and gently kissed her hair.

“Just out of curiosity- did you break the table by fucking on it?” Clint asked.

Darcy scowled at him.

“NO!” she shrieked at the same time Bucky said “Maybe.”

Clint smirked, and Peter quickly found a brochure to look at while he regained control over his face and could stop his horrified giggles. Steve likewise seemed to suffer a sudden coughing fit.

“That’s nice,” Tony said, clearly bored. “Can we be moving along please?”

By the time they left, they’d left significant dents in the stock of several sections of the lower floor. Darcy wasn’t kidding about buying out the bowls- she’d opted for 6 sets of 18 place settings and 8 sets of silverware, as well as almost every loose bowl they had out on the floor.

“Now it’ll all match,” she said. “And it won’t matter what comes and goes from the common kitchen.”

Natasha got her dish rack, and a new lamp. Tony even settled for a couple of nightstands and end tables “for until we find some better ones”.

Peter found a circle rug. It looked like a rainbow had puked on it. It was so ugly he loved it.

The limo trunk was stuffed when they left. The rest of the things would arrive in a couple of days.

“Can we go somewhere _ I _ want?” Clint whined as they drove off.

“Why? Where do you want to go?” Steve asked.

Clint told them.

“_Absolutely not_,” Tony growled.

He was still bitching about it as Happy pulled into the parking lot. “A freakin’ Wal-Mart? Are you kidding me?” he bitched. “I’ll catch scabies or something.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Steve said, amused. “And Sam and Darcy said they need some things too.”

“Stop complaining,” Peter said. “My Aunt buys my clothes from Wal-Mart online,” he said.

Tony whipped around to look at him like he had two heads. “ALL of your clothes are from Wal-mart?” he demanded, clearly scandalized.

“My underwear too.”

“God help me,” Tony complained, and rubbed his face.

Sam and Clint grabbed a cart and peeled off to do their own thing, while Peter found himself again on cart duty, following everyone else as they made their way to the “Omega” section.

“Wait... those look like my sheets-” Tony protested as they piled several sets of “Heat Tested, Omega Approved” bedding into the cart.

Natasha ignored him. “How many sheet sets do you have at your house, Peter?” she asked.

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know- two or three?” he said.

“Pick out another three,” she said.

He picked out some blue ones.

“Did my fucking sheets come from a _ fucking Wal-Mart? _” Tony demanded, outraged.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “There was a time crunch. And you like them don’t you?”

Tony huffed. “I’m burning them when we get back,” he said spitefully.

“Get a mattress protector too, Peter,” she said, and started piling things in the cart.

“Get me one too,” Darcy said. “Do you need more towels, Natasha?”

“I’m gonna get another cart,” Bucky said, looking at the already burgeoning cart.

“I’ll come with you,” Steve said, and the alphas promptly abandoned them.

Natasha watched them leave with a critical eye, and put some towels on their pile.

“I think they’re gone,” she said, and turned to Darcy. “When are we having the baby shower?” she asked.

Both Tony and Peter had abrupt choking fits.

Darcy meanwhile, had turned the color of a tomato.

“_Natasha _-” she complained, clearly flustered. “I...” she looked around. “It’s too early to tell-” she mumbled, a hand on her belly.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You shared a heat with Bucky, Darcy,” Natasha said bluntly. “Did you, or did you not use protection?”

Darcy flushed even harder, and sputtered. “I mean-” she protested. “That doesn’t mean-”

Natasha gave her a tight smile. “He’s a super soldier, Darce. You really think it didn’t take?”

Tony, for some reason, was looking more and more horrified the longer Natasha talked.

“I don’t know, okay!” Darcy protested. “Plus... what if... what if Bucky doesn’t want kids?” she asked faintly. “We just started out. I don’t... I don’t want to ruin it-” she said miserably.

Natasha stared at her for a minute. “I have a suggestion,” she said.

It turned out the baby section was right next to the omega section. Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Tony seemed even less enthused. He looked at the cribs and the row of car seats and high chairs like they were a row of nuclear bombs he had 5 minutes to defuse.

Peter, for some reason, found himself being told to hold a variety of baby clothes that seemed to consist of at least 20% zippers and more snaps than he’d ever seen in his entire life.

Natasha, meanwhile, was debating convertible (They could change into other things?! Like Optimus Prime?) vs regular cribs with Darcy when a shout of “Tony?” echoed through the store. Peter eyed the contraptions with a bit more respect.

“Over here!” Darcy called.

Peter had a front row seat as the alphas ambled up with another cart, and thus got prime viewing of Bucky and Steve going from confident, to confused, to bewildered, to vague panic on Bucky’s part and stoic alarm from Steve.

“Doll?” Bucky asked, quietly. He looked like he’d just been shot.

Darcy flushed. “Just looking,” she said quickly. “Natasha said a lot of things have changed since my niece was born-”

“And you never know when a happy accident might happen,” Natasha said ruthlessly with a smile.

Jesus Christ, she was scary, Peter thought, because Bucky suddenly looked like he’d remembered he’d left the stove on and was currently stuck on a 3 day cruise on the other side of the world.

“Can I put these back now?” he complained, and before anyone could answer him, he fled to avoid the coming possible disaster.

He took a little longer than strictly necessary to put the clothes back, and when he returned he found Bucky and Darcy alone in the baby section having a quiet (and somewhat tearful) conversation with Natasha standing guard at the end of the aisle.

“Where’s Steve and Tony?” he asked her quietly.

“Electronics,” she said.

“I’m gonna-”

“Go,” she said. “They might be a while.”

Peter fled again. Only he must have read the overhead signs wrong because instead of TVs he found himself in the snack aisle.

Holy shit he’d found heaven, he thought distantly. He wondered how many family size Doritos bags he could fit in his arms.

He wondered how many Tony would let him buy.

It seemed like an experiment worth trying.

He was in the middle of trying to wedge more bags under his chin and not lose his grip on the ones in his arms (maybe if he put some in his teeth?) when he felt a presence behind him. He turned, and saw a man standing behind him.

“Having a party?” the man said, amused. He was a brunette alpha and was, well. Fairly average.

“Um...” Peter looked down at his horde. “I’m stocking up?” he offered, not quite sure what the man wanted.

“You know, if you want to party, I know a place-” the man said, and took a small step closer.

Peter frowned at him. His spider sense was going off for some reason. He ignored it, and distantly wondered if this was the “Free drugs” conversation he’d been assured was a thing in D.A.R.E. He’d always wondered when that would happen. Ned had sworn that it wasn’t actually a thing. But it looked like Peter was going to win that bet.

The man didn’t look like a drug dealer. Hell, he was even a little on the short side for an alpha. And his arms were spindley. Peter could probably hurt him by accident just shaking the poor man’s hand.

“Um... I’m fine, thanks?” he said.

The man stepped slightly closer. “Do you need help carrying those?”

Peter blinked. This didn’t seem like any “free drug” conversation he’d ever heard of. What the fuck did this guy want?

“I think I can manage,” Peter said. “Thanks though,” he took a step backwards. He felt nervous for some reason. Which was stupid. It was just a man, offering to help.

“Really? Because I think you should **_put them down_**,” he said.

Peter dropped the chips. His spider sense started screaming at him.

He blinked, and stared at the bags on the floor. Why had he done that?

“What-” he looked up in confusion and something sweet and wet was sprayed directly in his face. He coughed.

What the fuck?

He took great big gasping breaths, trying to clear whatever it was out of his system.

_ Whoa. _

He felt... weird.

“Alpha?” he asked worriedly.

“Shh... it’s okay. ** _Follow me_**,” the alpha said, still smiling.

Peter blinked. That... wasn’t the best idea. He didn’t like it.

He followed the alpha anyway. The man took his hand and started to lead him out of the store.

Peter felt vaguely ill. Somehow, this man was his alpha, but he didn’t like it. The man was _ wrong. _

But he was his alpha, so he followed anyway. He was sure he’d make sense of it later. His alpha would take care of him until then.

That’s what alphas did, after all.

“Whoa there big boy-” someone said, and suddenly his alpha was on the floor, gasping and twitching, a knife sticking out of him.

Peter felt oddly that he should probably be more upset by that.

“BAD alpha!” the voice continued. “We don’t kidnap precious smol omegas- that’s _ very bad _-”

Peter blinked. A very large alpha was leaning over the downed alpha, shaking a finger. He was tall, probably as tall as Steve, and broad- very very broad.

It was like a light coming on in pitch blackness.

_ Oh. _

There’d been a mistake.

_ Obviously. _

That hadn’t been his alpha at all. But this one-_ this one _ was _ definitely _ his alpha.

“You’re so _ big_,” Peter said breathlessly from about two inches away from his new alpha.

The alpha jumped. “Sweet baby Jesus- you’re a sneaky bitch, aren’t you? You alright baby girl?”

Peter wasn’t a girl, but he didn’t really care what his alpha called him. He eyed his alpha’s shoulders, hidden under a large red hoodie curiously.

“Are you going to take me home, Alpha?” he asked hopefully.

The man choked. Peter watched, worried.

“Alpha?” he asked, and gently touched the man’s arm.

“Okay, okay- no I don’t know what’s happening-” the man hissed. He was bald and his face was covered in scars, Peter noted almost absently. Not that he cared. He was used to seeing scars- he was part of the Avengers after all, and everyone had their marks.

“Are you okay, Alpha?” Peter asked, genuinely concerned.

“Okay- first of all- you’re going to call me Wade-”

“Yes Wade,” Peter said instantly, obediently.

“And you are going to stand right... here-” Wade gently pushed him back a couple of steps. “And you are going to stop touching me,” he said grimly.

Peter pouted, but stopped stroking the man’s forearm, and clasped his hands in front of him.

Wade took a breath. Peter waited.

“Okay... he sprayed you with something, right?”

“Yes Wade,” Peter said sweetly.

“Jesus Christ- I know! Shut up!” Wade hissed at something behind him, then gently nudged Peter’s face up so that he could look closely at Peter’s eyes.

Peter’s eyes widened- could he be-

The man smelled of woodsmoke and gunpowder, he thought wildly.

“Ah. You’re higher than a kite, aren’t you, baby girl?”

Peter pouted as the man retreated without kissing him.

“You’re _ so mean _ Wade,” he whined. “I’m not a girl. And you didn’t even kiss me. That’s not _ fair _-”

The alpha sighed. “Orbiting Jupiter, got it,” he said grimly. “And I’m sorry, _ lady _-”

“I’m a _ boy _ Wade,” Peter complained.

Wade frowned at him. “But- you-” he breathed deep. “Definitely an omega-”

“I’m both,” Peter said brightly. “Can I go to your house now?”

“Sweetheart, why do you want to go to my place?” Wade asked, exasperated.

“Because you’re my alpha,” Peter said matter of factly. “Can we go now?”

Wade froze. “Oh, honey- no-” he whispered.

“You’re my alpha,” Peter insisted. “I like you. And you’re... _ so big _ ,” he said, eyeing his man’s shoulders again. “Plus you smell good. Like Steve. But I can’t have Steve. He belongs to Tony. But I can have _ you _-” he said pointedly and beamed up at Wade, immensely pleased at his own logic.

Wade, for some reason, sighed, and rubbed his face.

“Yes. I know. I KNOW. She- he’s... like 13 at most. I KNOW!”

“I’m 15. Are you talking to your pack, Wade?” Peter asked politely.

Wade froze. “What do you know about packs, baby boy?” he asked cautiously.

“Steve’s my pack leader,” Peter said sweetly. “He’ll like you. You’re _ big_. Like he is.”

Wade stared at him in horror for some reason.

“Wait wait... Steve.... Tony...” the man muttered. “Big like me... is... is Steve blonde, by any chance?” he asked distantly.

“He is! Do you know him, Wade?”

“And let me guess... you know a guy named Clint, don’t you?”

Peter nodded. “Natasha said I’m not allowed to kill him until I’m older,” he said seriously. “But I wouldn’t because he’s funny. Are you alright Wade?”

The color had drained from his face. Peter hoped his alpha wasn’t getting sick.

“PETER?!” a voice bellowed from somewhere close.

“I’m over here, Steve!” Peter called back. Steve was going to be _ so happy _ to meet Wade. Wade was _ nice _.

Wade looked up. “Shit-”

“Peter- you shouldn’t wander -” Steve trailed off as he rounded the corner. He took in the man with the knife him, Wade kneeling very close to Peter-

“Peter come here-” Steve ordered, eyes wide.

Peter ignored him. “Do you know Wade?” Peter asked brightly. “He’s my alpha,” he said proudly.

Steve froze. Stared at Wade. He seemed really angry for some reason.

“Whoa- I can explain-” Wade protested, but Steve suddenly had him by his throat against the metal shelving, his nose an inch from his, growling.

Peter watched, horrified. “Steve?”

“If you _ touched _ him-” Steve snarled.

“Didn’t- “ Wade squeaked. “Never. Jesus Christ you’re really Captain America,” Wade babbled even though he was nearly strangled. “I’m never washing this hoodie again-” he muttered.

“Yes I am. And you are _ NOT _ HIS ALPHA-” Steve slammed him against the shelving for emphasis. The entire unit shuddered.

“No- definitely not-” Wade agreed, sounding strained.

Peter couldn’t take it anymore. He kicked Steve in the shin.

“Put my alpha down!” Peter protested. “Don’t hurt him!”

“Peter, you’re confused-”

“I’ll... I’ll kick you into a wall again! I mean it! I’ll hurt you!” Peter threatened. The effectiveness wasn’t very good- he was sniffling back tears as he said it.

Steve froze. Wade froze.

“What?” Wade said, clearly confused.

“Put him down!” Peter demanded, now openly crying.

Steve dropped Wade like a hot rock.

“Shh... it’s okay Peter. I let go, okay?” Steve said.

“He’s nice!” Peter insisted, hiccuping. “He’s my alpha! Don’t hurt him!”

“Calm down honey. I promise. I won’t hurt him,” Steve said, but glared at Wade.

“Look- I’m in your line of work-” Wade said. “Sorta. Anyway, this fucker” Wade kicked the man with a knife in him, who groaned, “is an omega trafficker. Made some really sweet girls disappear. But no-one knows how. They just vanish. I’ve been stalking him for like a week now. Saw him with your kid. He sprayed him with some sort of drug then used his Voice on him. Baby boy here never stood a chance. He’s orbiting Jupiter right now. He doesn't know what he’s saying.”

Peter cried. He was so _ confused. _Was Wade saying he wasn’t his alpha? Why didn’t his alpha want him?

“He sprayed him with something?” Steve demanded, alarmed.

“Yeah-”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve muttered under his breath, and anxiously patted the man down. “Is this it?” he demanded, holding a spray bottle aloft.

“Looks right-”

“I gotta go. You can take care of this?” Steve demanded.

“Sure-”

“Great. Peter, let’s go sweetheart.”

Peter refused to move. “Wade’s supposed to take me home,” Peter insisted stubbornly.

Steve hissed, then took a breath. “I need to get you to your doctor, Peter,” Steve said seriously. “We need to get you checked in case of your allergies, remember?”

“But... Wade’s my alpha-” Peter hiccuped, and looked at Wade, feeling lost. “Right?”

Wade looked like he’d been stabbed, but smiled anyway. “I’ll tell you what. You go with the Captain, baby. I’ve got some errands to run, and an apartment to clean. I’ll come by and pick you up later, okay?”

Peter eyed him. Sniffed. “Promise?” he asked wretchedly.

Wade seriously held out a pinky finger. “Pinkie swear,” he said softly.

Peter shook his pinky. “Okay-” he said sadly.

“Good boy,” Wade said, and patted Peter’s head.

He beamed up at the alpha, suddenly happy again. “I’ll wait for you Wade!”

“Come on Peter-” Steve said, and tugged at his hand.

“Hey Cap?” Wade said.

Steve paused. “What?”

“You let that angel out of your sight again and I’ll take your eyeballs out with a rusty spoon,” Wade rumbled.

Steve looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Got it,” he said grimly, then hurried Peter off.

Halfway down an aisle, he said, “Cover your ears, Peter,” he said.

Peter obeyed.

Steve whistled. It was an emergency evacuation whistle.

“Is someone hurt, Steve?” Peter asked worriedly as Steve started pulling on his arm again.

“I hope not, sweetheart,” he said. “I hope not.”

They met with the others out front. “What’s going on?” Bucky demanded.

“Someone sprayed Peter in the face with some sort of drug and tried to walk off with him,” Steve said. “We need to get him home, NOW.”

“Jesus Christ- is that fucker still back there?” Sam demanded.

“Someone named Wade is taking care of it.”

“Big? Wearing red?” Clint demanded.

“Heavily scarred,” Steve said.

Clint whistled. “Well, that guy is dead,” he said. “Wade don’t fuck around with child predators.”

“Wade’s my alpha,” Peter said triumphantly.

Everyone stopped. Stared.

“What?” Peter demanded. “He’s _ nice_.”

“Peter’s also very very high,” Steve said. He sounded upset.

“I’m calling Cho. Letting her know we’re coming in hot,” Tony said, already on his phone.

Peter swayed slightly.

Happy pulled up.

“Dad?” Peter said softly. “I don’t feel so good,” he whined.

He threw up on Steve’s shoes.

Multiple hands shoved him into the limo.


	28. Bricks and Beams and Baby Bottles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a mish mash of some quotes from Iron Man 1. Also, it’s like 3am right now. So if there’s like typos, I’m sorry. I’ll fix them later.

The day had started off well enough. Peter had given him a bit of a scare over an ultrasound, of all things. But they caught it before he went into full distress and some cuddles fixed him, good as new. It irked Tony that he couldn’t give Peter comfort like Steve did. He didn’t have a scent due to his scent blockers though, and scent was vital to an omega in distress. Maybe he should take to carrying something of Steve’s with him, just in case. 

And then there’d been the disaster at Valintos. He wasn’t even sure why he’d taken them there- but they’d supplied his furniture for years, even before Pepper had taken a liking to the place. All of the designers swore by him for a “modern look”. 

It wasn’t until they’d gone to the Attic and found the bed that he’d realized that the designers were all full of shit. Just because he was a futurist didn’t mean he wanted to live like the freaking Jetsons, surrounded by white and untouchable furniture. 

He just didn’t want furniture like his father had had. Wood so dark it sucked in light and never let it go and so much fucking hideous _ orange _ and fucking _ dark green _ and cold stainless steel everywhere. 

IKEA... IKEA had been interesting. Modern. No frills. But... it wasn’t because it was _ looking _ to be soulless. It was to make it cheaper to manufacture. And they weren’t afraid of color, either if the 3 second brisk walk through of what was obviously the baby/kids section was anything to go by. There had been a near riot of color there. 

He’d almost been disappointed when Darcy picked out all white plates. He thought for sure she’d go for the blue ones... maybe... maybe he could get some red ones for the penthouse? Like his suit colors. 

NO.

Red plates and sparkly gold cups. 

Maybe red plates with gold painted on? He made a hasty note to Jarvis. If such a thing didn’t exist yet, he could order them made. And he didn’t care if it was “tacky.” 

He wanted fucking red plates damnit. 

And then they’d hit the Wal-Mart. 

“Did my fucking sheets come from a _ fucking Wal-Mart? _ ” Tony demanded, outraged. What the fuck? They were $13.99 _ per set _ for fuck’s sake. How was that even possible? He _ liked _ those sheets! 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “There was a time crunch. And you like them don’t you?” 

Tony huffed. “I’m burning them when we get back,” he said spitefully. He could do better than THAT, surely. 

“Get a mattress protector too, Peter,” she said, and started piling things in the cart. 

“Get me one too,” Darcy said. “Do you need more towels, Natasha?” 

“I’m gonna get another cart,” Bucky said, and Steve joined him. 

Natasha watched them leave with a critical eye, and put some towels on their pile. 

“I think they’re gone,” she said, and turned to Darcy. “When are we having the baby shower?” she asked. 

Both Tony and Peter had abrupt choking fits. 

Darcy, meanwhile, had turned a bit puce. 

“_ Natasha _-” she complained, clearly flustered. “I...” she looked around. “It’s too early to tell-” she mumbled, a hand on her belly. 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You shared a heat with Bucky, Darcy,” Natasha said bluntly. “Did you, or did you not use protection?” 

Darcy flushed even harder, and sputtered. “I mean-” she protested. “That doesn’t mean-” 

Natasha gave her a tight smile. “He’s a super soldier, Darcy. You really think it didn’t take?” 

Tony stared at the two women. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. Darcy was pregnant too? WTF was his life right now? 

“I don’t know, okay!” Darcy protested. “Plus... what if... what if Bucky doesn’t want kids?” she asked faintly. “We just started out. I don’t... I don’t want to ruin it-” she said miserably. 

Natasha stared at her for a minute. “I have a suggestion,” she said. 

Like all of Natasha’s suggestions, Tony hated it. They stood around in the baby section like some sort of perverse surprise party. Because that’s _ exactly _ how an omega dreamed of telling their alpha that they might be pregnant- by standing in the baby section of a Wal-Mart until the alpha noticed. 

For some reason, Darcy didn’t seem to mind. Tony kept his mouth shut, mostly because he was battling to keep his lunch down. It was one thing to look at cribs online. It was another thing entirely to be _ literally surrounded _ by them. 

The pictures of happy smiling babies in high chairs and strollers and baby seats and clothes and ... and... 

Oh god. He was going to be sick. What the fuck did he think he was doing? He was Iron Man. It was stupidly obvious that he had no business even existing in this part of the store, let alone... let alone... needing things from here. 

“Over here!” Darcy called. 

He watched with quiet despair as the alphas came strolling up, and them immediately realizing what the omegas being in this section MEANT. 

“Doll?” Bucky asked, quietly. He looked only slightly better than Tony felt at the moment. 

Darcy flushed. “Just looking,” she said quickly. “Natasha said a lot of things have changed since my niece was born-” 

“And you never know when a happy accident might happen,” Natasha said with a false smile. 

Jesus Christ, she was scary, he thought. 

Peter took this opportunity to escape- which only showed he had the real brains of the bunch, Tony thought absently. 

He blinked, and realized that while Bucky had only eyes for Darcy, Steve had a similar laser focus on him. The alpha quietly put an arm around his waist. “You guys talk, I saw a TV I want Tony’s opinion on,” he announced, though no one listened or cared. 

Steve guided him away, and Tony found himself relaxing the further they got from the small human section, with Steve chattering away the whole time. For some reason he hadn’t thought the alpha was serious- just making an excuse to give Darcy and Bucky some privacy. He leaned into his mate, and let him talk. 

So he was shocked when they actually walked into the electronics section and Steve started to point at things and ask him questions. It took him a moment for his brain to switch back into gear. 

“What?” he said, confused. 

“I said there’s all these abbreviations I don’t understand,” Steve said patiently. “This one is LCD and this one here says it’s OLED. They’re the same size but the OLED one is more expensive. Is it made of something different?” 

Tony sniffed. “Oh... um... they... they create the images differently,” Tony said, and tried to will his brain back on again. Right. Explaining flat screen TVs to Steve in terms the man from the 1940s would understand. He could do this. 

“The OLED is more complicated, so it makes a better picture,” he said. “There’s an even better version called QD- but they’re still researching it.” 

“What version do we have in the tower?” Steve asked. The man sounded like he actually cared for some reason. 

“OLED. Except for the common room- that one is projection from the ceiling.” 

“Do they even make TVs that big?” Steve asked. 

“I think I saw an 80 inch somewhere,” Tony said. “But the wall in the common room is bigger than that.” 

Steve whistled. “That’s big.” 

They talked about everything and nothing, with Steve peppering Tony with questions. He lost his temper a little when Steve actually talked like he was going to pick up a box and buy one, though. 

“Absolutely not!” Tony said firmly. “I refuse to let this happen! Underwear is one thing- but I will not allow a TV from a god damned Wal-Mart in my fucking Tower! I will throw it on the landing pad and set it on fire, Steve! It’ll make Jarvis sick, having to look at the damn thing-” 

Steve seemed pleased for some reason. “If it means that much to you, I won’t get it,” he said, clearly amused. 

“Don’t even know where you’d put it-” Tony bitched. “I already have TVs everywhere-” 

“I thought I might put it in the bathroom. I saw an ad the other day where this lady in a hotel had a thing like inside a mirror-” 

“You mean a magic mirror?” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like the ‘m’ word, Tony,” he said, surprised. 

Tony sighed. “I know- I KNOW! But that’s what they’re called,” he complained. “Marketing gimmick, really.” He frowned at his mate, suddenly suspicious. “Wait. You were seriously going to buy a TV from Wal-Mart... and stick it behind a mirror... and you thought that it would work?” The man was from the 1940s, not retarded. Surely he knew that mirrors had a coating on the back... the damn things used plexiglass not an actual mirror mirror. 

“I thought you’d make it work,” Steve said and beamed at him. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met,” he said. “If anyone could get it to work, you could.” 

Tony stared, open mouthed at him for a moment before recovering. “Of course,” Tony said pompously. “I am a literal genius.”

“I know,” Steve said, still beaming. 

Wait. Most people rolled their eyes when he said that. But Steve seemed to be genuinely happy with him. Tony eyed his alpha, suddenly suspicious. What the fuck was this man up to? 

Maybe he was buttering Tony up to ask for a blowjob or something? 

“Why don’t we go check on Natasha and Peter?” Steve suggested. “Peter might like a new game or something.” 

The poor kid probably deserved a whole new gaming system if he managed to survive the Feelings Storm that was no doubt happening in the baby section, Tony thought. “Sure,” he said. 

They ambled back, to find the happy couple giggly and kissing. Natasha stood guard at the end of the aisle, but Peter was nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s Peter?” Steve asked. 

She frowned. “He said he was going to go find you,” she said. 

Tony rolled his eyes at the sudden panic on Steve’s face. “Oh, come on Steve. He’s 15. He’s FINE. He probably got distracted and is looking at something shiny or whatever.” 

Steve shook his head. “I... I think I’m going to go look for him,” he said. “Something doesn’t feel right.” 

Tony considered him. “Calm down. If you’re that worried, I’ll call him,” he said, and dug out his phone. He dialed a number. 

“Sir, Peter’s phone is ringing in the MedBay. I believe he forgot it there this morning,” Jarvis said over Tony’s phone speaker. 

Tony sighed. Of course. He hung up, and considered the signs hanging from the ceiling. “I’ll tell you what. You take food, I’ll take animals... and Nat- can you take toys?” 

“Sure,” she said. “Meet at the front?” 

Tony nodded, and they split up. 

Considering it was basically a box with aisles in it, the place was a maze. He’d have a serious word with whoever the hell designed the signs, for one thing. It took him three wrong turns before he finally found the “pet” section. He scanned the aisles, looking for a short teenager with a mop of curly brown hair. He found one, but she was with her mother and was excitedly picking out a leash for a dog. 

Okay. Not here. He was making his way to the front when he heard the whistle. 

He froze. Wait. What? Emergency evacuation? What the hell? 

He broke into a jog. He found everyone out front. “What’s happening?” he demanded. He didn’t see Steve. He dialed Happy. 

“I don’t know. We were in the middle of checking out-” Clint protested. 

“We need to go- now-” Tony barked into his phone, then hung up before the man could argue. 

“Where’s Steve?” he demanded. 

Steve appeared, basically frog marching a swaying Peter out the door. 

“What’s going on?” Bucky demanded. 

“Someone sprayed Peter in the face with some sort of drug and tried to walk off with him,” Steve said. “We need to get him home, NOW.” 

“Jesus Christ- is that fucker still back there?” Sam demanded. 

“Someone named Wade is taking care of it.” 

“Big? Wearing red?” Clint demanded. 

“Heavily scarred,” Steve said. 

Clint whistled. “Well, that guy is dead,” he said. “Wade don’t fuck around with child predators.” 

“Wade’s my alpha,” Peter said triumphantly. 

Everyone stopped. Stared. 

“What?” Peter demanded. “He’s _ nice _.” 

“Peter’s also very very high,” Steve said, clearly one second away from losing his shit. 

“I’m calling Cho. Letting her know we’re coming in hot,” Tony said, already on his phone.

Peter swayed slightly. 

Happy pulled up. 

“Dad?” Peter said softly. “I don’t feel so good,” he whined. 

He threw up on Steve’s shoes. 

Tony helped shove the kid into the limo. 

“Clint- you drive-” Steve ordered. 

“On it,” Clint said grimly. 

“Cho- we’re coming in hot-” Tony said, sliding into the limo. “Someone sprayed Peter in the face with something, and he just puked.” 

“They sprayed him with what?” 

“I have no idea. Some sort of drug. He’s seriously out of it-” he covered the phone’s speaker- “Lay him on the floor, Nat-” he hissed. “I gotta go. Clint’s driving. I can’t talk and be thrown around at the same time-” he grunted as Clint floored it, and several people were thrown against each other or the seats behind them. 

Up front, Happy was protesting, but Tony ignored him. He hung up, and crawled on the floor to curl up behind Peter to help keep him from sliding around. 

“Are we on a roller coaster?” Peter asked, pupils blown as Clint sailed them over a speed bump. 

“Brace for drift-” Natasha barked, her eyes looking out the front window. Everyone threw out their arms. Bucky all but sat on Darcy, pinning her to her seat as Clint took an on ramp like it was a mild suggestion and quickly hit whatever the max speed for a stretch limo was. 

Tony and Peter slid several feet from the back of the limo to the front as Clint braked, swore, jerked the wheel, nearly rolling them.... 

Steve and Sam threw themselves against the side that was up, and they were back on the ground on four wheels again, accelerating. 

“It's okay baby,” Tony mumbled into Peter’s ear, and held on tighter. “It’s okay. Just relax. We’re going to get you home,” he said. He held him tightly and ran soothing fingers through Peter’s hair while Clint redlined a screaming engine. 

5 minutes from home Tony’s world stopped when Peter started seizing. 

“Get back!” Steve dragged Tony off him as the boy flailed. 

“Peter!” Tony protested. 

“Watch his hands-” 

“Bucky- don’t let him punch through the floor-” 

“Watch it, watch it- Darcy honey you need to get your feet off the floor- he’ll kick you-” 

“Get him on his side! He’ll choke if he pukes again-” Natasha said urgently. 

Everyone got thrown to the side as Clint took a hard 90 degree turn while going at least 40 using the parking brake and completely ignored the wooden arm boom that kept the general public from entering the Tower’s parking garage. It shattered on the bullet proof windshield. 

The limo skidded to a smoking stop 4 feet from the elevator. Somewhere from the entrance behind them were the sounds of armed security guards freaking out. 

“Happy take care of that!” Tony barked, as the Avengers boiled out of the limo like enraged ants. Steve carried Peter, who was still twitching. Jarvis, being amazing, had the elevator open and waiting for them. Steve took Peter inside. 

“Bucky come with me. Everyone else take the next one. If he seizes again he’ll just hurt everyone.” 

Tony tried to protest, but Bucky was in and the door slid shut before he could argue. 

“Calm down, he’ll be fine. He’s with Steve,” Natasha said urgently. 

“Whoa- why don’t we catch our breath a minute here,” Sam said, and took hold of his arm. “Come on. Breathe in. That’s it...” 

“What’s happening?” someone whispered. 

“Panic attack. Ignore it,” that sounded like Clint. 

He was NOT having a panic attack, damnit. 

“Oh. We’re allowed to have those?” Darcy asked. She sounded weird. 

He sat heavily on his ass on the stupidly cold garage floor. 

“Does anyone have a xanax?” Natasha asked. 

Tony snarled. “No xanax,” he managed. “I’m... I’m okay.” 

“Come on. Count with me,” Sam said quietly. “Breathe in and hold it- that’s it. 9...8... 7... you’re doing it... 3... 2. 1... breathe out-” 

Tony sat and breathed. “Okay. Okay. I’m okay-” he said. 

Behind him there was a thump, and strangled swear. Tony turned to find Darcy on the floor. “What the fuck-”

“She fainted,” Clint said grimly. “Fucking civilians- Sam help me-” 

They staggered into the elevator, Darcy slung between Clint and Sam. 

“Medic!” Clint shouted as they walked into the MedBay. 

Several people in scrubs rushed up. “Status?” one of them demanded. 

“She fainted. I think her head bounced a bit on the concrete,” Clint said. 

“She might be pregnant,” Natasha added. “She’s also Bucky’s mate. Handle with care.” 

“Head wound in bay 4!” someone announced as the doctors took over, taking Darcy away. 

“Where’s Peter?” Tony demanded. He was tired, but he’d power through it. 

“I think I see him bay 2,” Sam said. 

Tony speed walked. The kid was flat on his back on a gurney, and two IVs going, one in each arm. Steve and Bucky were nowhere to be seen. 

“I thought he was supposed to be on his side-” Tony demanded. 

“Toni?” Peter slurred. 

Tony was at his bedside immediately. “I’m here, honey. I’m here.” 

“I feel funny. Is Wade here?” 

“Who?” Tony asked, and ran fingers through Peter’s hair. 

“My alpha,” Peter said. “He’s suppose to come... come get me,” 

Tony pressed his lips together. The kid was sick and high and god knows what. You don’t argue with that- it would only upset him. 

“I don’t know. But I’ll stay here until he comes, okay?” 

“Be nice to him-” Peter said, urgently. “St’ve... he... he didn’t like ‘im...” Peter sounded close to tears. “He was... mean...” 

“I promise you I’ll yell at him about that, okay?” Tony lied earnestly. “I’ll give him a good smack, yeah?” 

Peter sniffed and relaxed. 

“Tired,” the tiny omega bitched. 

“You’ve had a big day, baby,” Tony said. 

“Not a baby!” Peter snarled. “NOT!” 

“Hey hey... it’s okay-” Tony soothed. Where the fuck was a god damned alpha when you needed one? Always underfoot when you didn’t need one and then when you did- 

“How’s he doing?” Steve asked. 

“Where the _ fuck _ have you been?” Tony hissed, incensed. “Did you seriously leave him alone? What if he was scared?” 

“I had to give the drug to Banner. They’re testing it now,” Steve said.

“So give it to fucking... some guy in scrubs to deliver!” Tony insisted. “You do _ not _ leave my pup alone like that!” he was shouting. Why was he shouting? 

Steve looked horrified. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking-” 

“Tony... you’re ... making my ears hurt,” Peter protested. “Stop...” 

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m sorry.” 

Tony gave up all pretense of dignity and crawled into the bed next to Peter. “Shhh... I’ve got you,” he murmured, drawing the boy close. 

Peter huffed and bared his neck, and Tony buried his nose into the boy’s scent glands, greedily breathing in his scent, soothing himself. He didn’t really care that his ass was half off the gurney. Peter was alive, and awake. 

He ran fingers through Peter’s hair. “Shhh....” he wasn’t entirely sure who he was soothing- himself or Peter- 

A solid warmth enveloped him from behind, and Steve’s scent surrounded them both as Steve leaned over to kiss Tony’s hair and aggressively scent mark them by running his wrists down their sides. He rumbled protectively, and both omegas sighed and relaxed. 

They were home, safe in their nest, with a strong alpha to guard over them. It would be okay. 

_ They would be okay _. 

Someone was shaking him awake- Tony grumbled and buried his face deeper into the scent of cinnamon rolls. 

“Fuck off,” he groused. The teenager next to him snored gently. 

“Tony- baby- it’s time to get up. Mrs. Parker is here,” Steve rumbled into his ear, and gently kissed his hair. 

Tony huffed. Grunted. 

“Come on... you’ll want to hear what the doctor says,” Steve said. 

Tony sighed and rubbed his face. His mate was right. He did want to hear what the doctor had to say. “I’m coming...” he mumbled, and managed after a bit to sit up. 

He looked at Peter- who was peacefully dead to the world, somehow snoring adorably. How the fuck one snored adorbly, Tony had no idea but Peter managed to pull it off. 

“Baby... you with me?” Steve asked, and ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony leaned into the touch. 

“I’ll manage,” he said. God, he could use some coffee. But even he knew that caffeine was bad for... well. Maybe if he asked Jarvis to stock some decaf? 

He shook himself awake. “Okay. Okay. Where are we going?” 

“Come on, I’ll take you,” Steve said. 

“Jarvis?” Tony called. “I will call for Mr. Wilson to come sit with him,” Jarvis said. “I will let you know if he wakes up.” 

“Good boy,” Tony said grimly. 

By the time they reached the meeting room Tony was back on earth. 

May was already there. She looked frustrated and sick. “What the fuck _ happened _?” she demanded. “I thought you were taking him shopping!” 

“We did. We were at Wal-Mart,” Tony said flatly. “Steve-” 

“He wandered off while we were looking-” Steve sighed and rubbed his face, and started again. “We got separated. We tried to call his phone but he’d left it here in the MedBay from this morning. We went looking for him, and I found him near the food area. An omega trafficker sprayed him in the face with some sort of drug and used his Voice on him, then tried to walk off with him- another alpha saw it happen and stepped in. I-... _ nothing happened, _ May. I want to emphasize that. When I got there the guy who’d rescued him was trying to get information out of him so he could call someone. I _ swear _ \- he was out of my sight for no more than 10 minutes. I... I’m _ so sorry _.” 

May looked sick. “Oh god. On the news- they’ve been talking about omegas going missing- the man- the trafficker- where is he?” 

Steve’s expression turned dark and serious. “He’s being... dealt with. I put Natasha and Clint on it. We’ll know soon if he was acting alone, or-” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t be hurting anyone again.” 

For a second, May looked shocked, then grimly satisfied. 

“Sorry folks, to keep you waiting-” Cho and Banner walked in, looking harried. “We just got the test results back.” 

“What was it?” Tony demanded. 

“Well, the good news is that it was very simple- synthetic Greater Omega Bonding Hormone, or GOBH for short. I understand it’s called a ‘roofie’ on the street. Usually you put in someone’s drink- it’s very unusual to see it aerosolized like that.” 

“Basically it fools the Omega’s brain into thinking they’re bonded to the alpha in front of them,” Banner said grimly. “It’s why Peter went with him without fussing. He probably wouldn’t have even had to use his Voice on him. Steve- you know how loopy a newly bonded omega is-” 

Steve looked sick. “That’s probably why he was so enamored with Wade,” he said. 

“Wade?” May asked. 

“The alpha who saved him,” Steve said. “I talked to Clint. He said Wade’s in the business, and has a soft spot for kids- but he’s dangerous. Unstable. We should do everything we can to keep Peter away from him.” 

“Peter asked for him again before he went to sleep. Wanted to know when Wade was going to come pick him up,” Tony said, equally unhappy. “I said I’d wait with him until he came, I didn’t want to upset him.”

“How long does it last?” May demanded. “Do I need to nail the windows shut to keep him home-” 

“For most omegas it lasts a few hours. We’ve pumped him full of saline to try to flush it out of him, and with his metabolism I think it’s safe to say that he’s probably over it already. I will want to test him to see how lucid he is before I let you take him anywhere. I don’t want him hurting himself by accident.” 

“He also probably won’t remember any of it, either. That’s a well known side effect of the drug. He might be sad and irritable but won’t be able to tell you why. That will be him missing an alpha that doesn’t exist,” Cho said. 

Tony winced. That sounded like a fresh new layer of hell. 

“If he doesn’t remember... What should I tell him?” May asked. “He’s... he’ll be so upset- he’ll blame himself, I know he will- I don’t want him feeling like he can’t go outside-” 

Bruce and Cho shared a look. 

“I find, generally, that the truth is best,” Bruce said slowly. “Even if it’s a partial truth.” 

Tony stared at the wall, leg shaking with the speed of his thoughts. “We can tell him he had a bad reaction. Perfume maybe? Someone pulling a prank?” 

“That won’t make him feel safe-” May protested. 

“It’s better than ‘you were 5 minutes from being raped and sold’,” Tony said bluntly. “Does anyone here think he’d ever recover if he knew that?” 

“I would have found him before that-” Steve said firmly.

Tony gave him a Look. “ _ Steve _ . It doesn’t _ matter _. He’s timid enough as it is-” 

“What’s important is routine. Routine helps keep children feel grounded and safe. We need to treat this like what it was- which was an unfortunate incident that was _ not his fault _. No different than if he slipped and bumped his head in the bathroom. If you start treating him differently he’ll notice and that will upset him more than anything he does or doesn’t remember,” Cho said firmly. 

“So... he’s okay to go to class tomorrow?” May asked. 

“I would imagine so- _ if _he feels up to it. If he pretends to be sick, don’t call him on it, let him take a day. It might take a day or two for him to shake the sadness.” 

Tony tried his best not to scowl. Now was not the time or place for another screaming match with the damn woman. 

“What about the seizures?” Tony asked. 

“Seizures?” May demanded. 

“He seized in the car before we got him to the tower,” Steve said grimly. 

“I think that was a reaction to the synthetic hormones,” Cho said. “If that had been his first exposure- he probably would have been fine. But I’m guessing he’s developing an allergy to man-made hormones.”

“You mean his throat might swell shut? He’ll need an epi-pen?” May demanded. 

“Epi-pens are synthetic adrenaline, so I’m going to veto that until we do some more testing,” Bruce said. “His reaction so far seems to be idiosyncratic. I think that if he’s exposed again- it’s likely another seizure will be the result. So... unpleasant, but most likely not life threatening.” 

Unless he’s in the middle of swinging around town, Tony thought grimly. He made a note on his phone- put an air filter into the spider suit capable of filtering out hormones. 

“I’ll write a note for his school,” Bruce said. “And I’ll get him a medical alert bracelet,” Bruce said. 

May sat and thought for a moment. 

“Okay. I... I think we’ll go with Tony’s perfume idea. A teenager pulling a prank, and he had a strange allergic reaction to it. He’s had trouble with kids before, so he’ll believe it.” 

Tony whipped around. “He’s having trouble with bullies?” he demanded. 

“_ Used to _. I handled it,” May said firmly. “I spoke to the principal, and he moved classes. It’s been taken care of.” 

Tony frowned at the table. Peter had never mentioned that- 

“If that’s settled- I have some other good news. The results from his scans are back, and I’m happy to report that Peter’s heart has very little deformity. He has a heart murmur that’s caused by some leaks in his heart valves, but they’re small enough that it shouldn’t affect him. I think he can lead a very full and normal life,” Bruce said. 

Everyone in the room let out a breath they didn’t even know they’d been holding in. 

“I also took a peek at his reproduction system,” Cho said. “For an omega, it’s fairly normal. He does have what’s called a ‘tilted uterus,’ which means it sits differently than it should- it leans backwards instead of forwards- but that’s common. I would strongly urge that he be tested for an allergy to copper and discuss having an IUD placed sooner rather than later.” 

“I thought IUDs contain hormones-” May protested. 

“Not a copper one. These are completely hormone free, are very effective, and can last for several years.” 

“I don’t understand- an IUD? What-” Steve protested. 

“It’s a form of birth control,” Tony said. 

“Birth control? But he’s not seeing anyone-” 

“And he’s a teenager. And accidents happen. Especially if his heats are irregular as we think they might be. It will be better to be safe than sorry,” Cho said.

Steve and May looked ill. 

“Please tell me you are not suggesting-” Steve protested. “Peter- he’s a good boy-” 

“_ Accidents. Happen _,” Cho said firmly. “It’s not the best, but this real life. Teenagers get caught up in hormones and feelings- it happens more often than you think, even to ‘good boys’.” 

May shook her head. “I’ll have to talk to him about it later. I don’t... so much has happened. I think I’ll wait until everything settles down.” 

Cho nodded. “I just wanted to put it on the table,” she said. “It’s not pleasant, but it needs to be mentioned- if he ever does get pregnant, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to terminate it safely. The procedures either call for artificial hormones or surgery. And right now, based on what I ‘ve seen, I think both of those options would be more dangerous for him than the pregnancy. I think aggressive prevention would be the best course of action.” 

“Oh god,” May said, rubbing her face. 

“Has anyone had... ‘The Talk’ with Peter?” Bruce asked delicately. 

“Yes. Ages ago. He knows about condoms and things,” May said doggedly. “Ben talked to him.” 

Another sigh of relief went around the table. 

“Sir, Peter is awake,” Jarvis said from the ceiling. “Mr. Wilson is with him, but he seems confused.” 

There was a scramble for the door. 

Tony made himself slow down when he hit the general floor of the Medbay. Everyone stampeding over wouldn’t help Peter’s nerves any. 

May didn’t have the same idea and rushed forward. “Peter!” 

If the boy had been standing, she would have knocked him over. As it was, the gurney rocked a bit as May enveloped him in a bone crushing hug. 

“How are you feeling?” she demanded. 

“Uh... okay I guess? I... I thought we were at Wal-Mart-” a sudden thought seemed to hit him. “Did... did I go into heat again?” he asked, horrified. 

“No, Pete. Some boys playing a prank sprayed you in the face with some perfume that had some fake hormones in it. You had a bad reaction, that’s all,” Steve said. “You had a seizure in the car on the way back. Gave us a scare.” 

“I had a seizure?” 

“Bruce thinks it’s a sort of allergic reaction, kiddo,” Tony said. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“I... I wanted some chips...” Peter trailed off. “Did... did I hurt anyone?” 

“No. Everyone is fine,” Steve said. 

“Well. Darcy fainted, but I think it's because Clint’s the most aggressive driver on the planet,” Tony said cheerfully. “I’m sure she’s fine.” 

Peter looked forlorn. “I missed Clint driving?” he complained, obviously disappointed. “Did he drift? Natasha says he can drift anything-” 

“Excessively,” Tony said. 

Peter groaned and pouted. “He says he’ll teach me how to drive when I don’t need a carseat anymore, but I’ve been out of one for ages-” 

“Clint said _ what _?” Tony demanded. 

“He is _ not _ teaching you how to drive,” Steve said firmly. “I will-”

Tony sputtered. “No you will not! You still haven’t gotten a driver’s license-” 

“It’s a paperwork thing- they won’t believe I was born in 1920,” he muttered darkly. “I _ know _ how to drive Tony- I drove through half of France-” 

“Throwing your motorcycle at Nazis does _ not _ count as driving experience!” Tony insisted. 

“_ I _ will teach him how to drive,” May said firmly. “And there will be NO drifting. Whatever that is.” 

“You ready to go home, Peter?” Bruce asked from the outside of the group. 

“I can go home?” Peter asked. 

“Sure. I just want to double check some things first and you’ll be good to go.” 

Everyone made way so Bruce could sit next to the bed. “Just follow my finger-” he said. 

Tony tapped May on the shoulder, and tilted his head towards an empty bay. She reluctantly followed him.

“I know what you’re going to say-” she said. 

Tony held out a hand. He took a breath. “I just... I want to be on the same page here. He’s going back to school. Great. Whatever. He needs a safety plan. Something formal with the school... what- what do you intend to ask for?” 

He would not die of an aneurysm during this conversation. He would... delegate. He would be _ diplomatic _. He would keep his fucking mouth shut- he could blow things up later- 

Peter. Remember Peter. If May put her foot down, she could cut him off, and he could lose him- like he had Harley- 

_ Not again. _

She eyed him. “It’s killing you, leaving this to me, isn’t it?” 

“May-” he sighed. “I just- I want what’s best for him-” 

“Which is what I’m doing. Going back to school so he can be with his friends-” 

_ Friend _, Tony thought. 

“And be normal-”

_ And be bored. _

“And... be a teenager.” 

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Another breath. 

_ Stay on topic. _

“Safety plan?” he tried. 

“I’m meeting with the principal first thing in the morning. If he so much as sneezes weird, he’s to call a list of emergency numbers- which includes you- BUT- you have to promise me you will DRIVE there, and not go in guns blazing and hog tie his teachers.” 

No aneurysms. Right. 

“I... promise.... That I will check in with the front office before I pick him up,” Tony said haltingly. “And that I will not hog tie anyone.” 

She considered him. “That’s the best I’m going to get out of you, isn’t it?” 

“May- I wish I could promise-” he trailed off. “Look. Even if no-one knows he’s Spider-Man, he’s Peter Parker. Someone, somewhere, eventually, WILL realize that he’s the same Peter Parker that’s listed as an intern at Stark Industries. The only intern with unlimited clearance. My personal, very much loved intern. Someone could come for him for just that-” 

May was looking less and less happy the longer he talked. 

“And I just... I want you to know that I take his safety seriously. I thought he was under attack when he called me- I could hear people trying to break down the door to the room he was in, even over the phone-” 

She stopped him. “No one told me that-” she said flatly, angry now. “Who was breaking down the door?” she demanded. 

“Some teachers. Thought he shouldn’t be in a heat room and went overboard. My lawyers are on it. Breach of protocol, privacy, whatever. I expect them to be fired. Anyway- I just. He’s important to me. Also.” 

She considered the floor for a moment before looking at his face. “I- thank you. But you have to trust me Tony. I’ve been his parent for a long time now. I know what I’m doing. And he belongs at school.” 

Tony nodded. “I understand,” he said, even though he was dying inside. 

She sighed. “I’m going to take him home-” 

“I’m sorry- about today-” he said suddenly. “It was supposed to be fun-” 

“I know,” she sighed. “It’s life, I guess. I don’t blame you. He _ is _ super adorable. I’m kinda surprised this is the first time someone’s tried to take him.” 

Tony snorted. “Yeah. I’m actually kind of surprised about that too.” 

“May? Can we go? I’m hungry,” Peter called. “Can we get pizza?” 

May eyed Tony. 

“He had meatballs and hotdogs for lunch,” Tony said, instantly caving. 

She snorted. “That’s what I thought,” she said, smiling. “You can have leftover meatloaf,” she said loudly. 

Peter groaned. 

“But Aunt Maaaay-” he whined. 

***********

A hand touched his shoulder. “Are you coming to bed?” 

Startled, Tony nearly dropped his soldering iron. “What?” he asked, twisting around. 

Steve stood behind him, smiling gently. “It’s late baby- I think it’s time to go to bed.” 

Tony stared at him, open mouthed for a moment. “What- what time is it?” he asked, looking around his lab, knowing full well that there weren’t any clocks on his walls on purpose. 

“It’s past midnight. And you were upset today. Come to bed with me,” Steve said with puppy dog eyes. 

Tony stared down at his hands. Was he hallucinating? Steve never really asked him to come to bed before... 

He blinked. He _ was _ tired. He’d had some coffee, but it was decaf, and it just was not the same-

_ Damn those eyes. _

“Okay,” he said, and put the soldering iron back on it’s holder. “Shut it down J,” he said. 

Steve beamed and kissed his hair. 

Tony pretended he wasn’t pleased. 

A shower and a change into jammies later, he crawled into bed and after a moment of hesitation, curled up with his head on Steve’s chest. 

Steve rumbled his approval, and pulled him close. 

Tony laid there in the dark, breathing in his mate’s scent, absently fingering his alpha’s shirt. The silly man insisted on wearing proper pajamas with a collar and buttons on them and matching pants. 

_ The dofus. _

He thought about today. 

About Peter. He wouldn’t lose him. He’d toe the line with May- at least until the boy turned 18. 

He couldn’t remember. Didn’t Harley turn 18 soon? He’d have to have Jarvis look it up. Maybe the boy could forgive him for leaving him in the middle of Fucking Nowhere Tennessee... 

He thought about the look on Steve’s face when he saw them in the baby section. Was... had he seen things wrong? Or had Steve looked... grim? It wasn’t the look one usually hoped to see on their alpha when you had a... whatever the fuck Natasha had pulled at Wal-Mart. 

_ Seriously Nat? _

He fiddled with the collar. Steve must have gotten tired of it because he reached up and held Tony’s hand still with his own. 

“Settle,” he mumbled into Tony’s hair. 

Tony huffed. Decided to ask before he lost his nerve. 

“Steve?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Did... did you ever want kids-” he said, then panicked. “With Peggy, I mean?” 

Steve froze. Literally froze. Stopped breathing and everything. 

“Steve?” Tony asked, suddenly scared. 

Tony suddenly found himself on his back, with Steve leaning heavily on top of him. 

“I love you,” Steve said firmly. “I’m just as happy now as I was then. You’re all that I need, baby. You and my pack.” 

Steve kissed him. “I love you. So much.” He kissed him again. 

“Steve-” Tony managed when Steve finally let him up for air. 

“Shh... my omega. My _ mate _. Let me take care of you.” 

And he did. So thoroughly and so well that Tony never really noticed that he didn’t get an answer until the next morning when he was being grumpy over his decaf coffee. 

_ That fucking bastard. _

But in a way- it was an answer- wasn’t it? 

_ Fuck. _

**Steve didn’t want kids. **

Oh god. What was he going to do _ now _? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter is sponsored by: Shakespearean levels of miscommunication. 
> 
> “Remember: If I had a texting plan, I wouldn’t be dead! And where’s the drama in that?”- Juliet


	29. Brooklyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Serious Peter Whump in this one guys. This poor kid just cannot catch a break.

Peter groped blindly for the blaring alarm clock and groaned.

“Come on-”

Eventually he found it, and managed to shut it off.

“Peter?!” his Aunt called from somewhere downstairs.

“I’m up!” he screamed into his pillow.

“Hurry up! I made waffles!”

Oooo... wait. Waffles? On a _ Monday _?

Suspicious, he slunk downstairs and cautiously approached the kitchen. And yes- there were waffles. And _ orange juice _.

He poked the glass as if it were a possible explosive.

“MAY?” he called.

“Yeah?” she poked her head out of the laundry room.

“Is... is everything alright?” he asked, worried.

She frowned. “Of course.”

He stared at the waffles.

“You made waffles. And orange juice.”

“Yeah. I felt like it.”

“It’s Monday.”

“So? I can’t treat you nice on a weekday?” she teased.

He eyed the waffles.

_ Right.... _

The last time she’d made waffles with orange juice for him before he went to school was after Ben died.

He eyed her. He tried to remember if they had any elderly distant relatives that might have died over the weekend. He couldn’t think of any.

“Hey-” May said, softly. “It’s just waffles, sweetheart. Eat.”

He ate them, but he did so while eyeing the laundry room suspiciously. He’d figure it out. May was horrible at keeping secrets.

Wait... was this about yesterday? His whole... seizure thing?

He stared at the waffles, appetite gone. Jesus Christ. He’d really freaked her out, didn’t he?

“I have more in the oven-” May said, coming out of the laundry room with a basket on her hip. She stopped, looking at his still mostly full plate.

“You okay Peter?” she asked, worried.

“I... I’m just tired,” he lied. “I think... I think I’ll eat them later.”

She stared at him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You feel okay?” she asked again.

“I-” his eye landed on the clock. SHIT.

“I’m late-” he said. “I- I’m not even dressed-”

He ran off, stumbling off up the stairs.

He threw on some clothes, and ran back downstairs. May tossed him his lunch as he went through the kitchen- he caught it instinctively, then came to an abrupt halt at the front door.

He stood there, hand on the door knob for a full 5 seconds.

“Peter? You okay?” May asked cautiously.

“I... I feel like I’m forgetting something,” he said, trying to take mental inventory. He had pants on, right? He double checked. Yep. Pants. And shoes. And a shirt. His bookbag was in his hand- so was his lunch.

Wait. Wasn’t... wasn’t he supposed to go somewhere? Not school... but ...

Did they need more eggs or something?

He stood there, feeling lost.

“Do you need to go back to bed, sweetheart?” May asked quietly.

Peter shook himself. “What? No. No. I’m fine,” he threw her a big smile. “I’m fine May. Just... brain being weird or something for a minute.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’m meeting with your principal in an hour to go over your medical stuff. Do you want a ride home later?”

“No, I’ll take the subway.”

“Have a good day!”

The smile vanished the second his feet hit the pavement outside.

What the fuck was he supposed to be doing?

The feeling intensified the further he got from home. By the time he got to school his skin was practically buzzing.

He sucked it up.

“Dude... did you smuggle in some cinnabons or something?” Ned demanded.

“What?”

“Cinnamon rolls. I could smell them from like the hallway. Share dude!”

“What are you talking about?”

Ned stared at him. “Frosted cinnamon goodness? Big as your head? Ringing any bells? Did you pack some for lunch or something?”

Peter blinked.

_ Oh. _

He scowled and fidgeted. “Shut up, alright? I don’t... I... It’s my Scent, alright?”

Ned blinked at him.

“What?”

“I... I got my Scent, alright?”

Ned stared at him. “So now you smell like cinnamon rolls?” he whisper-demanded. “DUDE.”

Peter glared at him.

“What- it’s like... cool. I don’t smell like anything-” Ned complained.

“Mr. Parker-” Mr. Hastings barked.

“Yes sir?”

“You know my rules. No food in class.”

Peter flushed. “I don’t have any, Mr. Hastings.”

The teacher raised an eyebrow. “I can smell it all the way over here, Parker.”

“I don’t have anything,” Peter protested.

Mr. Hastings eyed him. Peter squirmed.

“It stays in your bookbag until lunch,” he said finally.

Peter huffed, frustrated. “Yes sir,” he said, hoping the man would just shut up about it.

It was a theme that seemed to dominate the day.

“Who brought cinnamon rolls?” Mrs. Garret asked, puzzled. She’d entered the class after everyone was already inside.

A couple of people immediately pointed at Peter, who flushed and sank in his chair.

She frowned at him. “Leave it in your bookbag,” she scolded.

“I-” he gave up. “Yes ma’am.”

Later it was, “Parker, you know that lunch is over, right?”

Or “Parker, unless you’ve brought enough to share, keep it in your locker.”

Mrs. McDermit almost sent him over the edge.

“No food in my class, Parker.”

“I don’t have anything!” he snapped. She was the 5th teacher to make a comment, and he was starting to lose his mind a little.

She blinked, startled, then frowned at him. “Don’t take that tone with me,” she snapped back. “Or do you need a detention to remember your manners?”

“I... no ma’am,” Peter said, deflating instantly. “I’m sorry.”

She glared at him, and he avoided her gaze. Apparently pleased, she huffed.

Peter sat in his chair, utterly miserable. His skin fucking... itched, and he just...

_ He wasn’t supposed to be here. _

He snapped after the bell rang, letting them out of 4th period. He got his book bag out of his locker, and went into one of the beta bathrooms. A few seconds with the window- and he slipped out and was across the parking lot.

He felt marginally better once he was outside. He had no idea where he was going. Just... not here.

He let his feet guide him.

After a while, he eyed the rooftops. He’d make better progress if he had his suit. But it was back home, and May was home today. So if he went home...

He kept walking. He found himself looking at people. But they were all... not what he was looking for.

It was maddening.

_ What is wrong with me? _

He considered his reflection in a store window. He looked normal. Hair- mess of curls in desperate need of a haircut- check. Stupid pun t-shirt- check. A Stark Tech hoodie tied around his waist- sure.

He considered his face. It looked... a little more gaunt than normal. Did he lose weight during his heat?

He huffed, and bought something from the next street vendor he saw. He didn’t have cash, so he dug out the credit card Tony had given him ages ago. He got two hotdogs with mustard and devoured them as he walked. It was fine. He’d pay Tony back later.

He walked.

People passed him. But they were the wrong sort. They weren’t Wade.

He stopped. Wade? Did he know a Wade? Where the fuck did that come from? He searched his memory, but came up blank. Whatever. Maybe his brain was a little weird because of his seizure? He didn’t know.

He kept walking.

After a while he got tired of walking. It wasn’t hard to find a park- he just looked for trees and headed in that direction. He sat on a swing set.

It occurred to him that he should probably start heading home. He definitely wasn’t going to find Wade (Who the FUCK was Wade?) today. It was probably getting late- had the sun always been that low? He eyed the area around him and didn’t recognize it.

Huh.

Well, that wasn’t anything to worry about. He’d just get google to tell him. He dug his phone out of his bookbag and turned it on.

Immediately the phone started buzzing angrily.

Whoa. He had like... a zillion missed calls. The phone rang, and Peter answered without thinking.

“Hello?”

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

Holy shit, Tony sounded PISSED.

“Um... I don’t know?” he said. There was sputtering on the other end. He felt weird. “I was just going to ask google-”

“Where have you been?” Tony demanded.

“I... I went for a walk?” Peter said.

More sputtering. “You skipped the last class of the day- and went for a walk... and... Jesus christ. WHY are you in Brooklyn?”

“I’m in Brooklyn?”

“YES.”

“I don’t know. I just...” Peter trailed off. Maybe Tony would know. Tony knew everything. “Something’s wrong. I... I need help.”

There was a sudden silence, and Tony’s tone completely changed. “What? Peter? Sweetheart? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He sounded so concerned Peter actually double checked himself.

“No, I’m okay.”

“I’m coming. Just... stay put. I’m coming, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Talk to me Peter. What happened today?”

He could hear the jets of the suit in the background.

“I went to school. And then I went for a walk.”

“Did something happen at school?”

“I...” he frowned, annoyed. “They... they kept telling me to put it away,” he bitched.

“Who did?”

“The teachers. They kept telling me to put it in my locker.”

“Put what in your locker?”

“My cinnamon rolls. That I DO NOT HAVE,” Peter roared that last bit before going quiet again. He sniffed. God he was tired. “I’m tired,” he whined, rubbing his face. “When is Wade going to pick me up?”

“You’re confused honey. You don’t know a Wade,” Tony said instantly.

Peter huffed. “I KNOW. I know! And... and I can’t _ find _ him-” he could feel frustrated tears go down his face. “I want to go _ home _-”

“I’m coming Peter. I’m almost there. Just stay put, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Okay.”

Tony landed not a minute later, the suit opening around him and spitting him out. Tony stumbled a bit before rushing over to him. He wore sweatpants and a t-shirt. He must have come straight from the lab.

“Peter-” Tony ran fingers over Peter’s head, then down his body- looking for an injury?

“I’m not hurt,” Peter insisted.

“Yeah- I’ve got him. You have my GPS?” Tony said, a finger to his ear. “He doesn’t look hurt. We’ll do a full scan when we get back-”

Peter sighed and leaned against him.

“I’ve got you kid,” Tony said.

“I want to go home,” Peter complained.

A car came to a screaming stop somewhere on the fringes of the park.

“TONY?” that sounded like Natasha.

“OVER HERE!” Tony called back, waving.

She ran over. “Peter?” Natasha tilted Peter’s face up so that she could look him in the face. “His pupils are dilated.”

“Yeah, he’s not making much sense. I think he’s confused.”

Maybe Nat would know. “I can’t find him,” Peter complained.

She froze. “Find who, honey?”

“Wade. I can’t find him.”

For a second her face went unreadable. “You don’t know a Wade, Peter.”

Peter huffed. “I KNOW.”

She exchanged a Look with Tony, who shook his head.

“I’ll tell you what. It’s getting late. Are you tired? Hungry?”

“Yes,” Peter complained.

“You come back with me to the tower and we’ll get you some pizza, okay? That sound good?”

“I’ll come with you,” Tony said. He rapped on the armor. “Go home, J,” he said. The suit closed itself up, then took off when he stepped away.

They hustled him to the car. Peter paused- taking one last look-

“Come on honey,” Natasha said softly.

He let her put him in. She buckled his seat belt and kissed his head.

“You drive,” Tony said. “I’ll call May.”

“On it,” she said. Tony slid into the seat next to him, already dialing. “We got him,” he said. “He was in Brooklyn- no he wasn’t hurt... he’s confused. I’m taking him back to the tower for a brain scan. Uh huh. I’ll see you there.”

Peter sighed. “Is she mad?” he asked.

“She’s worried,” Tony said. “You gave us a scare there, buddy.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, leaning heavily against Tony. Tony gathered him up in his arms.

“I know honey. I know.”

They made him lay down in a really loud machine and be still for FOREVER before Bruce let him have any pizza.

“So far, it looks clear,” Bruce said to Aunt May, Tony and Steve. They were in another room, but Peter could hear them just fine.

Clint plopped down next to him and helped himself to some pizza.

“Hey- you see any interesting fountains while you were out?” he asked.

Peter shrugged. “Just the usual. I had a hotdog that was pretty good.”

“What did you have on it?”

“Mustard.”

“Just mustard? Really? Have you had one with onions on it?”

Peter made a face. “I don’t like them when they’re crunchy.”

Clint snorted. “A man of refined taste, are we? You like them caramelized, or just cooked?”

“Caramelized,” Peter said. He frowned and stared at a wall... wasn’t he supposed to be...

“Hey- kid. Peter-”

Someone snapped fingers in front of his face. Peter blinked.

“You with me kid?”

“Do you know Wade?” Peter said suddenly.

Clint blinked. “What?”

“Wade.”

“Kid... are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” Clint asked.

Peter narrowed his eyes. Clint was doing that thing- his professional liar thing. The one where he looked like he was telling the truth by not actually saying anything.

“You... YOU know Wade,” Peter declared.

Clint sighed. “I know _ A _ Wade,” he admitted. “But he’s... he’s a bad guy, Pete. He kills people. You shouldn’t look for him.”

Peter sighed, and rubbed his face. “Am... am I going crazy Clint?” he asked quietly.

“If you were crazy Pete, I’d be the first to tell you,” Clint said seriously. “I think you’ve been through a crazy week and you need some rest.”

“I just... I can’t _ think _-” Peter said. He could feel more tears coming.

“Hey- hey. You’ll be okay. You hear me? Yeah? STEVE?” Clint bellowed the last bit.

Steve was there in an instant. “What? What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got a meltdown imminent. Do the cuddle thing.”

Steve sat down next to him and gathered him up. “Shhh....” he said, and scent marked him, running his wrist up and down Peter’s back. Peter buried his face into Steve’s neck and breathed deeply of his scent.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“I’m _ tired _, Alpha-” Peter complained.

“Your Aunt is going to take you home in a minute, okay? But you have to promise me-” Steve drew back and looked Peter in the eyes, serious. “_ Promise _me you won’t wander off. If you need help finding something or someone, you ask your Aunt. And if she can’t help, she’ll call one of us, okay?”

Peter sniffed. “Okay.”

“I think this will help,” Tony said, and sat down in the bed next to them. “Give me your wrist, honey.”

Peter held out a hand, and Tony attached a watch to his wrist. “This,” Tony said, “will help keep you safe. It’ll tell us where you are even if your phone is off. It will also tell us if your heart rate goes too high. Okay?”

Peter eyed it. “Like... like a tracker?”

“I won’t turn it on unless you go missing again,” Tony said. “It’s waterproof, so there’s absolutely no reason for you to take it off. Okay?”

Peter frowned. “Did... did you just make this?”

“I made it yesterday to help make sure that you’re safe at school. But you’re going to be staying home for a couple of days to rest up.”

Peter considered it. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

“It’s the seizure, honey,” Tony ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Just your brain taking longer to recover than we expected. That’s all. You’ll feel like your old self in a couple of days, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I promise I won’t wander off again,” he said.

He fell asleep on the car ride home, snuggling a tshirt that smelled that Steve. Tony had given it to him “in case of emergency”. He probably meant it as a joke, but Peter found it stupidly soothing.

“Hey, time to wake up Peter- it’s time to go inside,” his Aunt shook him awake.

He sniffed, and went inside the house, and crawled into bed, only kicking off his shoes before passing out.

The next day he sat at home and watched old episodes of Gray’s Anatomy with Aunt May.

He ate ham sandwiches for lunch, and by dinner time he was actually feeling better. It felt like a strange fog had lifted.

“So, what’s happening?” May asked.

“What?” Peter asked.

“It’s pop quiz time. What just happened in the episode?” May asked.

“Um... the brunette omega is still pining over the alpha douche who won’t leave his wife?”

“That’s like every episode. What else?”

“Um... there was a train accident?”

“Good. You feeling better now?”

“I think so,” Peter said. “I don’t feel foggy anymore.”

“Good. Tomorrow I go back to work. But I want you to stay home without me.”

Peter frowned. “But school-”

May gave him a Look. “No point in going if you can’t put two words together, Peter,” she said reproachfully. “I never should have sent you yesterday. I pushed and... I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay May,” Peter said. “I’m feeling better now.”

“Good,” she gave him a kiss on his forehead. “I’ve got to go to bed soon. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes May,” Peter said.

He played candy crush before bed, before eventually turning out the light at 1 am, the shirt that Tony gave him on the floor somewhere.

He slept.

******

Tony was gently drooling onto Steve’s chest when the buzzing noise went off.

“Wha-” he blinked awake.

“Sir. Peter’s watch alarm has gone off,” Jarvis said. 

That woke him up like a splash of cold water to the face.

“WHAT?”

“His heart rate underwent a dramatic spike and is now lower than normal-”

“Call May.”

“Tony?” Steve muttered. “What’s happening?”

“Something’s wrong with Peter. Get dressed.”

Steve swore, and May answered after the 5th ring.

“Tony?” she sounded sleepy.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony demanded.

“What? I- I think he’s sleeping?”

“His heart monitor just went off. Can you check on him please?”

There was silence, then sounds of footsteps. “PETER?” she called.

Tony waited anxiously while he looked for shoes.

“He’s not in bed-” she said, sounding panicked.

“Jarvis?”

“GPS indicates he is still in the house,” Jarvis said.

“Did you hear that May- he’s still there-”

“I’m looking- _ oh god _...”

Tony’s heart just about stopped at her tone.

“_ May? _”

“He- he’s in the bathroom. I think he fell. Shit. He’s bashed his head really good against the sink- there’s blood and vomit everywhere. Oh god- Tony-”

“We’ll be there soon.” Tony said. “Jarvis?” he demanded. “Wake up Clint!”

It turned out that there was just enough space for them to land the quinjet in the street directly in front of Peter’s house.

10 minutes later they were back in the MedBay, with Peter getting yet another head x-ray. Or at least, trying to.

“NO! Go away!” Peter babbled, incoherent. “Don’ touch me!” he lashed out. Steve took the hit so the x-ray machine wouldn’t.

“Peter. It’s me. You’re at the Tower. You’re safe,” he recited, then grabbed Peter’s hands and held them down. “Did you get it?” he asked the tech. The man looked at his screen before giving a thumbs up.

“Good,” Steve kicked the wheeled machine away, out of Peter’s line of sight.

Tony waited anxiously with May at a safe distance.

“What’s going on? Peter’s hurt again?” Bucky asked, wandering in, still in his pajamas.

“Help me- he’s confused-” Steve grunted.

“NO!” Peter screamed, and tried to buck Steve off him.

Bucky swore, and quickly hopped on the gurney, pinning his legs. “Rumble for him-” he hissed.

“I’m trying-”

Bucky started, low and deep.

“Shh....” Steve joined in, and after a few seconds Peter relaxed, gasping.

“Don... don’t hurt me-” Peter begged.

“Shh... you’re safe. You're at the tower. You’re safe. I’m here-” Steve recited. “It’s just a bad dream honey. You’re safe.”

Eventually Peter blinked. “Alpha?” he asked, dazed.

“Right here honey,” Steve said instantly. “I’m here. You’re safe. You’re at the tower. You bumped your head, and got scared-”

“Don’t... I don’t want to-”

“Don't want to what, honey?”

“Don’t...” Peter protested.

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything. Just relax. You’re at the tower. You’re safe.”

“Steve?”

“I’m here too,” Bucky said. “We’ll protect you, Peter. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.”

“Promise?” Peter asked weakly, eyes full of tears.

“Promise,” Steve said firmly.

*******

Tony sat with May at Peter’s bedside while they waited for the overnight doctor to read the x-ray. Bucky was keeping Peter occupied by showing him things on a StarkPad.

“We can’t keep doing this May,” he said quietly. “This... this is unsustainable. I know you want him at home, and going to school but... it’s looking like Peter is going to need 24 hour supervision for a while. I don’t think you can give that to him at home.”

She sighed, and rubbed her face. “I just... I just wanted him to have a normal life-”

“He can have that-” Steve said, equally quietly, standing next to May. “But for now he needs more support. Until we figure out what’s going on with him.”

“He can stay in his room here,” Tony said. “Jarvis will keep an eye on him. And there will always be someone here- Sam has agreed to stay behind if there’s a general call. And the MedBay is just floors away-”

“You’re welcome to come visit him any time you want,” Steve said. “Our home is yours.”

She stared at Peter, whose face was still mostly covered in blood. His vomit covered shirt and pants had been cut off and tossed on the floor.

She sighed. “Okay,” she said. “He stays.”


	30. Avenging Made Easy

"What was 17 again?" Evan asked. He was laying on his back on the floor, his feet propped up on the ancient couch in Harley’s garage. He was writing on the underside of a battered coffee table that had one Lego leg and one leg made of a stack of 1980s college math books in addition to the usual wooden ones.

"356.24" Harley said, not even looking up from his workbench. A broken Nintendo Switch was splayed out in pieces over the wooden surface and Harley soldered with all the attention and care of a surgeon. The jeweler's loop he was currently looking through was attached via some armature wire to the bill of his camo trucker’s hat.

"How the hell did you get 356.24?" Evan demanded.

"Did ya carry the two?"

"Yes!"

"It's suppose'ta be a six."

Evan huffed. "Now you're just fucking with me," he complained.

"Order of operations, Evan. You're suppose'ta multiply _before_ you add," Harley said patiently.

Evan stared at his paper.

_ "Fuck." _

"Yep."

"I gotta redo this entire thing-"

"And number 5."

"What?"

"Did ya do the exponent first?"

".... no."

"Hmmm..."

"God damn it. I don't understand. I put it in my phone-"

Harley sighed. “It’s the order of operations, Evan. You should know this by now.”

“Oh, so you’re saying that you should know how to spell now too? Because I still find it hard to believe that you don’t even know how to spell ‘mathematician’ right. It’s like... What you do!”

Harley rolled his eyes. “My Penis Extracts Multiple Damning Anal orgamS.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Harley- I don’t know what kind of friendship you think we have-”

“It’s a thing. That helps you remember. Like, ‘My Very Excellent Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas’ for the order of the planets.”

There was another beat. “And what the _ fuck _ is your penis supposed to help me remember?”

“Parenthesis, exponents, multiplication, division, addition, subtraction- the order of operations.”

Another beat.

“Hasn’t Pluto not been a planet for like... years now?”

“Shut up,” Harley growled. “Do ya want to pass math, or not?”

“I would like to pass math, _ and _have nothing to do with your penis, all at the same time. I feel like that’s not too much to ask-”

They both jumped as the back door to the garage burst open, bouncing off the wall behind it, and an enraged Mary-Anne stormed in, slammed a book on the ground, and spit on it.

Both boys froze, staring at the book.

“Anne?” Evan asked tentatively. “Everything okay?”

“NO! This... this piece of sexist... SHIT is the worst thing ever! Mrs. Flannigan wants me to do a fucking book report on it, and I’d rather gouge my fucking eyes out!”

She kicked it, hard, and it spun across the floor and bounced off an ancient and decrepit scooter on the other side of the garage. Then she launched herself onto the couch and started crying.

The boys stared at the book, then at the slight omega.

“Okay- I’m gonna go get the ice cream-” Evan said slowly.

“Get the fudge brownie- not the chunky monkey,” Harley said quietly, holding out a five dollar bill.

“Are you kidding? I’m getting chocolate therapy _ and _ the brownie one,” Evan whispered back before he took the bill, grabbed a skateboard from against the wall, and headed out.

Harley took off his hat and cautiously picked up the hated book. It seemed fairly straight forward... There was a picture of a stone tower on the cover, with some sort of blonde hair waterfall going down the side to the ground below.

He flipped the book over, and found a generic description of, well- Rapunzel. A fairy tale?

“What’s wrong with Rapunzel?” he asked. “It’s got a happy endin', don’t it? They get married and have lots of babies and live happily ever after-”

Mary-Anne huffed. “Not in this one,” she said miserably into a pillow. “This one is... ‘modern’.”

Harley sat down on the floor next to the couch. “Tell me about it,” he said neutrally.

More huffing.

Harley waited.

“So... it starts the same, right? A witch kidnaps a baby after her parents are stupid, and she grows up to be this beautiful omega with long hair. And she does the whole ‘oh my god my life is so hard’ thing because she can’t leave the tower.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then this alpha hears her singing. So he does the whole ‘how can I get my knot in her?’ thing and climbs her hair. And they share a heat together.”

“Okay,” it seemed pretty straight forward.

“He tells her that he’s going to make her his mate- but he doesn’t bite her because he has issues or something back home. He says that he’ll be back. And then he leaves.”

“Wait... so he leaves her behind?”

“Yes.”

“Okay... sounds dramatic... what'da she do when he comes back?”

“He doesn’t.”

“What?”

“_ He doesn’t come back. _ So she HANGS HERSELF with her own fucking hair-”

“_What? _”

“And THEN- then it just ends! IT ENDS!”

Harley stared at the book in disgust. What the fuck kind of shit was that?

“And NOW- NOW- Mrs. Flannigan wants us to do a report on, and I quote: ‘what Rapunzel did wrong’.”

He stared at the book in horror. “_What?! _”

“That’s what I said!”

“But... the alpha was the dick head in the story-”

“EXACTLY!”

He stared at the book. Frowned.

“And?” he asked.

“What?”

“Mary-Anne, you justa about broke down my door and spat on a book before cryin'. What else is going on?”

She blinked, sniffed, and refused to look at him. “I... I’m sorry. I just... I’m close to my heat-”

“You just had your heat a month ago,” Harley said instantly. “You’re not due for another 7 weeks.”

She gaped at him. “Are you... are you tracking my heats?”

Harley blinked. Was this what being in front of a firing squad felt like? “Um...”

“Harley!”

“You... um... I need to know when to stock the ice cream?” he tried lamely. Maybe the truth would work?

“You asshole!” She threw a pillow at him.

“Look. I’m drownin' here. My momma, you, and sometime very soon it’s gonna be Abby too. You WANT me to live or not?” he demanded. “If I don’t keep track, we run out, and then _ I’m _ the one going out at 2 am for stuff!”

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay-”

“Do you, or do you NOT want me to buy you chunky monkey, and have it on standby a week before you’re due?” Harley demanded.

“What?”

“Do you want your _ Chunky? Monkey _?” he demanded.

She stared, open mouthed for a second, before huffing. “You’re still an asshole,” she muttered.

“And I cannot help how the Lord God made me,” Harley shot back. “So I’m takin' that as a yes to the monkeys?”

“Yes, alright! I want my fucking chunky monkey,” she pouted.

“Good. So... you wanna tell me what’s really goin' on?”

She fidgeted, looking miserable. “Harley-”

“Yes?”

He waited patiently as she gathered her thoughts.

“Do.... do I smell different?” she asked quietly.

Harley stared at her, eyes wide for nearly a whole minute. There was, in his experience, only one reason for an omega’s scent to change.

“Mary-Anne?” he asked quietly, intensely. “Do I need to get you a pregnancy test?”

“What?” she was startled.

“Do I need to get you a test?” he asked, seriously. He cupped her face with a hand. “I can go down to the City- no one would know-” he said, desperately searching her face. “I won’t even tell Evan.”

She flushed scarlet. “No. I...” she leaned into his touch. “McKenzie... McKenzie said that one of the reasons why Rapunzel killed herself is that... she knew that other alphas would smell him on her, and they wouldn't want... wouldn’t want..”

She couldn’t seem to bring herself to finish.

“Wouldn’t want her?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “Do... do I smell different, Harley?” she insisted, afraid.

He sat on the couch, and made a show of drawing her close, and scenting her. He deeply breathed in her Scent of honeysuckle and roses.

“You smell just fine to me-” he said gruffly, holding her tight in a bear hug.

“Really? Or are you just-”

“You smell the same,” Harley said firmly. “And you should know that McKenzie Little was dropped on her head when she was a baby. Just ask her momma. Right down the front concrete steps of the church-”

She snorted. “That’s awful, Harley,” she complained half-heartedly.

“But it’s true. She ain’t got no sense, and you know that-”

She sniffed miserably. “But-”

“Look. Sometimes, sometimes you can tell right after, or for a few days. Sometimes, they scent mark ya and it can linger for a bit,” he said earnestly. “But that ain’t nothin’ a shower, and some of that de-scent soap won’t fix. And you smell _ just fine _.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said firmly, resisting the urge to scent mark her himself. As much as he loved her like a sister, she wasn’t blood-related, and it wasn’t his place.

“Holy shit- should I have bought skittles too?” Evan asked from the doorway, alarmed.

“Maybe,” Harley said. “I’m about to ask for a name,” he said grimly.

“Harley!” she protested.

“What piece of shit alpha left you high and dry and worried like this?” he demanded. “Tell me.”

Evan eyed them, even more alarmed, eyes wide. “Mary-Anne? Do I need to get you a test?” he asked quietly.

“No!” she barked, irritated.

“I want a name, Mary-Anne Castor,” he rumbled, not letting her go.

She squirmed. “It’s no-one- just... some asshole-”

“That is a given,” Evan said, pissed. “What happened?”

“Some asshole spent a heat with her then ghosted.”

Mary-Anne sputtered. “I... I did not say that! I _ never _ said that!”

“You didn’t have to,” Harley said. “Why else would a stupid story about Rapunzel upset you like this?”

She huffed. “I hate you,” she said without any heat.

“Anne-” Evan said, pleading.

“Bobby. Bobby Chadwick,” she said reluctantly.

Harley frowned. He couldn’t place the name. He gave Evan a Look, who shrugged, baffled. “What grade is he in?” Harley asked.

“He graduated,” she said dully. “Like a few years ago-”

“Oh, Mary-Anne,” Harley breathed, disappointed and heart broken all at once. Mary-Anne was a year behind them, and barely 16.

“Shut up! He- he was nice!” she insisted, close to tears. “He... he treated me _ right _, Harley-”

“Right up until he left-” Evan said grimly.

Mary-Anne sobbed.

“Shhh.... I got you,” Harley said. “I got you.”

They ate their ice cream and watched John Tucker Must Die and Magic Mike on Harley’s projector.

“Chadwick...” Evan said thoughtfully as they watched Channing Tatum gyrate on screen. “Isn’t there an ‘Emily Chadwick’ in our grade?”

Between them, Mary-Anne snored gently.

Harley considered. “Emily... the fake redhead?” he asked. “Beta, but tall?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about her?”

“We could look up where she lives,” Evan said. “In the school computer.”

Harley considered. “He’s graduated, though. He’s probably not there no more.”

“Hmmm...”

Harley thought. “You know...” he said slowly, “She asked me last week if I would fix a phone for her.”

“Oh? What did you say?”

“I said no. I didn’t have time. But... she said it used to be her brother’s- said he gave it to her broken.”

They shared a Look.

“Well, it’s not right, leaving a girl without a phone, Harley,” Evan said calmly. “You should help her out.”

Harley nodded. “I think I will,” he said thoughtfully. “I think I will.”

Emily, as it turned out, was thrilled he’d changed his mind. “I don’t actually have any money to pay you with Harley,” she said contritely. “I do have some of these cool crystals though I got from my Uncle-” she said. “He says he got them from New York after the alien attack. They glow. Sarah said you’d be cool with bartering. You like things like that, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Harley said. He didn’t give a damn if she gave him lollipops and a smile. He wanted that fucking phone. “It ain’t safe for a girl these days to be without a phone, Emily,” he said seriously. “Don’t worry about it.”

She gave him both the phone and the crystals.

The battery had somehow been knocked loose, and the screen wouldn't turn on. He spent $30 on ebay for a new glass front and screen. After a bit of jiggling, he had the phone up and running enough to clone it. Whoever this Bobby was, he had crammed the phone to the gills with files and apps. It was going to take a while for his somewhat ancient laptop to back it all up.

While he waited, he considered the ‘crystals’ that Emily had given him as payment. There were three of them, all about the size of his pinky finger. They were... glowy. Kinda. But that could be how they were cut and a trick of the light. Whatever. He shrugged and shoved them on a shelf. He’d deal with them later.

He wondered what would happen if he shot them with his BB gun?

He was tracing a particularly ornery circuit in the switch while he waited for the phone to be backed up, when a glow out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

It was coming from the shelf. He frowned, leaned backwards in his chair to get a better look, and nearly fell over.

HOLY SHIT.

He hurried over. The makeshift miniaturized arc reactor he’d made last year was fucking GLOWING.

Weakly. But glowing.

What the hell? He’d made it as sort of test of himself- if Tony Stark could make one in a fucking cave with a box of scraps, it shouldn’t be any problem for a boy in Tennessee who had access to a credit card and Ebay. Plus he’d seen the thing close up and Tony had answered his millions of questions almost absently while he’d worked on the suit- especially when Harley offered to get him more moonshine.

It’d been. Well. Not easy. But not as hard as replacing the top screen on a Nintendo DS- (threading those wires through the hinge is a BITCH.) Except for the palladium. It had been a real pain in the ass sourcing any at the time- so he’d shelved it. Never got it to turn on.

And now it was motherfucking GLOWING.

He picked it up. The glow vanished.

Frowning, he examined it, and in a spirit of experimentation, replaced it on the shelf.

Glow.

He picked it up.

No glow.

_ Huh. _

He scanned the shelf- trying to see what had changed.

_ The crystals. _

He placed the reactor on his work bench, and carefully placed a single crystal on top of it.

The reactor not only glowed, but hummed a bit- it was trying to rev up.

He eyed the crystal. It was slightly too big to fit into the slot where the palladium core was supposed to go.

Maybe...

One youtube video and several of his mother’s emery boards later, Harley carefully hammered the now slimmer crystal into place with a rubber mallet. He’d covered it with a bit of foam from an old bike seat and a dish towel from the kitchen to absorb most of the shock. He didn’t want to fracture it.

There was a click as it finally slid into place. The reactor hummed happily, and after a moment, glowed green instead of blue/white.

_ Interesting. _

It fried his voltage reader when he tried to figure out how much it was throwing out. Which both pissed him off and intrigued him.

What was he going to do with it? He’d have to step down the power before he could use it...

But... if he could get it to work....

He eyed the electrical panel that went to the main house. It could power a suit that flew through the air. How long could it power, say- a house? A month? Two? More?

He’d need to order a better voltage meter-

An alarm on his phone went off. Frowning, he dug it out of a pile of crap on his workbench.

SHIT.

He had work today.

He tossed the reactor back on the shelves, and ran off to get dressed. He double backed to throw a blanket over it- he didn’t want Abby or Momma messing with it. And while technically they knew better-

Well. Didn’t matter. If he didn’t hurry he was going to be late for his shift.

He didn’t get back to the phone until the next day after school. He eyed the shelves- but no. That would have to wait. A certain Mr. Chadwick had a date with... maybe a baseball bat? Harley hadn’t decided yet.

He brought up the files, and skimmed through them. He wanted to make sure he had the right target first. There were a lot of pictures. Lots of porn.... Lots and lots and .... jesus christ, dude. Seriously? _ So much porn. _

He flicked through almost absently, when his eye spotted something that made his blood turn to ice. Wait... had that been-

He scrolled up.

And there she was- Abby.

_ What the fuck????? _

She was fully dressed (thank god) and sitting on a couch, kissing some asshole on the cheek while he grinned like an idiot and gave a peace sign to the camera.

He frowned. Where had he seen that face before... Wait. What was his name- A.... not asshole, God damnit, it was A something.

Aaron.

He considered the picture for a moment, then picked the “share” option, and uploaded it to facebook. After a moment, it regurgitated little boxes around the faces in the picture with “Would you like to tag Abby Grace and Aaron Sykes?”

His eyes narrowed. He’d hoped Aaron would match. But Abby? Hmmm...

He clicked on her tag.

She had an entire facebook page under “Abby Grace” and it was chock full of just... teenage crap.

He growled. He’d _ thought _ he’d had her phone locked down so she couldn’t download facebook. But apparently he was wrong.

Looks like she wasn’t going to be getting an upgrade for her birthday after all. In fact, he was fairly sure he had a crappy flip tracfone somewhere. He’d fucking burn out the camera on it with a soldering iron first, though.

Well. At least that explained how she’d managed to meet up with this... Aaron.

He double checked- and yep. She was lying about her age on the page, too.

“Abby...” he muttered, frustrated, and rubbed his face.

He flicked through the pictures some more. No, no no.... there. There was another one of Abby. She was sitting on a porch in front of a small house next to the Aaron dude. Again.

The house had a red tin roof- which was unusual around these parts. He frowned at it, then shrugged and moved on.

More pictures. This time, no Abby but Aaron and other guys. And Jesus Christ, that was a bong. And... he tilted his head and peered at the picture. Was that...

He hoped to god someone had spilled baking soda on that fucking table because otherwise he was going to be chaining Abby to a radiator until she was 30.

So. Okay. Fuck.

He was getting distracted. He’d scared Aaron off, so he didn’t need to worry about them. He doubted he’d come sniffing back around, especially since he’d made it clear that Abby was under his protection.

So. Back on track. He needed a picture of Mary-Anne.

He found one. The guy doing the selfie was shirtless and sweaty and Mary-Anne was in bed. She didn't look coherent. Fortunately there were some sheets or else he would have seen more of her than he cared to.

It felt like a hot knife had been twisted in his gut.

_ The fucker had taken a picture of her while she was in heat. _

He didn't look for any more. One was enough.

Now to find out where he lived. It was stupidly easy. He just told google “navigate home”. And... bam. He had the fucker’s address. It was clear on the other side of town, but that was fine.

He wiped the phone’s memory before filling it with garbage files then did a factory reset. Now anything that had been on it before was unrecoverable.

He was about to delete the phone’s files off his computer when he hesitated. Mary-Anne. Should he tell her about the pictures? She was brokenhearted already. But if she didn’t know...

He pursed his lips. He’d decide later when he wasn’t so angry.

He brought up his own phone, and dialed. Evan answered on the second ring. “Harley?”

“He took pictures of her while she was in heat,” he said flatly. “I dunno if she knows.”

Evan swore. “Are we burning this fucker’s house down or what?” he demanded.

“No. But I have a few ideas.”

“Tell me when and where, Harley.”

“I’ll pick you up after my shift at your house. Then we’s gonna go to Knoxville and do some shopping,” Harley said.

“_Please _ let me slash his tires,” Evan said. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Bring your switchblade,” Harley said.

“_Yeess... _” Evan hissed, excited.

It was dark when Harley picked Evan up.

“I got fifty bucks and my mom’s Sam’s card,” Evan said. “They sell eggs for super cheap, and they have these stupid big packs of toilet paper.”

“Sounds like a start,” Harley agreed. “We’re also going to Home Depot.”

“What are we getting there?”

“You’ll see,” Harley said. His smile was not friendly.

They hit the house at 2am.

“Is this it?” Evan asked. They were in a fairly hick neighborhood- the houses were run down but far apart.

“According to the DMV, that’s his truck,” Harley said.

“Awesome,” Evan said.

Harley activated his jammers. Cell phone service was spotty out here at the best of times, and now it would be non-existent. His second gadget hijacked the asshole’s stupid and cheap internet-based security cameras that he’d scouted out earlier. If anyone checked the footage, all they’d get would be a loop of Rick Ashley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up,” at max volume.

“Ready to rock?” Harley asked. “Born ready,” Evan said.

It took less than 3 seconds for Harley to jimmy open the door to the man’s F150 with a slim jim he’d gotten from the junkyard. He rolled the windows down, and closed the door.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

The two part expanding foam frothed and well, expanded like crazy as they poured several gallons of it into the cabin. It wasn’t enough to fill it to the top, unfortunately, but it was enough to cover the bottom of the truck cab to the underside of the truck’s seats.

“Are you sure this will piss him off?” Evan asked.

“It’s used as a concrete substitute,” Harley said. “And it’ll be fully set in an hour. He’ll need a chisel to even get to the pedals.”

“Sweet,” Evan said.

The rest was fairly standard- they partially filled his truck bed with pancake batter, and spread 5 pounds of extra fine glitter over his yard and roof. 90 rolls of toilet paper joined them. Cases of eggs followed.

And in case he missed the point, Harley helpfully spelled out “DICK” with flour on the front yard.

By the time they were done, the house looked like a badly wrapped mummy.

And of course, Evan slashed the truck tires. Several times.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow,” Evan said, surveying their work with a tired smirk. Throwing toilet paper rolls was harder than it looked. It took a certain flick of the wrist to not only get the height needed to clear the trees, but also make it unfurl right for proper coverage.

“Good,” Harley said.

They celebrated at a Waffle House because it was cheaper than IHOP.

“Ugh... I am broke-” Evan whined. “And I feel like my mom made me try out for the baseball team again-” he rubbed his shoulder.

“You woulda been good at it,” he pointed out. “You shouldn’t have quit.”

The beta rolled his eyes. “And what- stand outside in the heat and do nothing for hours a time? Please. Does it _ look _ like I want skin cancer? Or to die of boredom?”

“You could've stared at cute guy’s asses for hours,” Harley said innocently.

Evan glared at him. “I may be god damn whore, Harley, but I’m not_ that _desperate. I can stare at naked guys at home in my room where there’s air conditioning,” he retorted.

Harley snorted a laugh and took a bite of his waffles.

Evan eyed him thoughtfully. “Speaking of asses... I gotta ask, Harley. I’m dying here.”

“Hmm?”

“Are... are you gay?”

Harley blinked at him. “_What? _”

Evan produced a hand and started counting off fingers. “You watch Magic Mike with zero complaints. I mean- none. Not even like a wrinkled nose. You, in all the years I’ve known you, have yet to even so much as glance at a girl. And Mary-Anne’s right. I know of at least 3 omegas who would totally stab a bitch to have even a chance with you-”

“Evan-” Harley said warily.

Evan ignored him continuing, “You do like... housework. And, for reasons I do not want to think about, I know for a fact none of your underwear is even close to being ratty-”

Harley frowned at him. “What does underwear have anythin' to do with-”

Evan waved him quiet. “I’m_ listing. _Please wait for the end of the presentation for any and all questions and comments-”

“_Evan _,” Harley rumbled.

Evan huffed. Waited a beat. “WELL?” he demanded.

Harley considered his waffles and shrugged. “Never seen nothin' I like, I guess,” he said.

Evan frowned. “Girls? Guys? What are we talking about here?”

Harley shrugged. “Either I guess. Dunno. Never seemed... important. I ain’t got time for nonsense.”

“Then what do you call what we just did to Mr. Dickwad?”

“Necessary,” Harley said instantly.

Evan sighed. “You’re a stone cold bitch, you know that Harley?”

“Fuck yeah I am,” he said. “And you love me for it.”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Evan said, then paused. “No homo.”

Harley nearly choked on his orange juice.

“_ Asshole _,” he grumbled.

Evan laughed.


	31. Every Rose Has a Thorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Panic attacks. Peter whump. How NOT to calm a panicking omega - a guide.

Peter woke up and did not know where he was. He eyed the room around him with a mixture of fear and confusion-

“Young Master Parker, you are in the Tower. It is Wednesday, April 17, 2019, and it is 10 am. You are safe. Sir is sleeping in the Penthouse, and the Captain is on the common floor with Mr. Wilson and the Sergeant making a snack. Would you like me to call someone?” Jarvis said calmly from the ceiling, a voice of sanity.

As soon as Jarvis started speaking the contents of the room went from strange and foreboding to familiar and comforting. He was in his room in the tower. He’d gone to sleep in his bed the night before. The reason why everything looked so strange was he had his head at the foot of the bed, not the top, and he almost never slept here anyway.

That was all.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Young Master?” Jarvis asked again.

“I’m fine Jarvis. Just... lost my bearings for a moment.”

“Of course, young sir. Remember I am here to help you,” Jarvis said. “And that there will always be someone here 24/7 should you require assistance.”

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Peter said. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Should he be relieved that he wasn’t alone? Or irritated that he was, essentially, being babysat?

He rubbed his face. His head throbbed dully. He winced, and walked to the bathroom, where he examined his head in the mirror. He had a large goose egg near his left ear, where he’d apparently hit the sink hard enough he’d taken a chunk off the formica corner. Fortunately the cut in his scalp had been fixable with just a bit of glue, but he still had dried blood in his hair, and some streaks on his neck where whoever had wiped him down had missed some spots.

Ugh. He eyed the shower.

“Might I suggest a bath, Young Master?” Jarvis said instantly. “There are some bath bombs in the cabinet, and I think you will find the jets soothing.”

Peter frowned at the ceiling, considering. Jarvis had never commented on his bathing choices before.

“And if I take a shower...” he asked cautiously.

“I shall call someone to assist you,” Jarvis said.

Peter went wide-eyed. “I can bathe myself- I’m 15-” he protested.

“They are to stand outside and wait in case you fall,” Jarvis said, unflappable.

Peter huffed. “And if I tell you NOT to call someone?” he tried.

“I’m sorry, Young Master. But your safety and general health falls under a Priority One Command Structure. You are not authorized to override it.”

Peter grumbled, but took a bath.

At least the jets were nice.

Scrubbed pink, he wandered into his room and put on a tank top and some basketball shorts. The tank top was huge on him- Tony must have ordered something several sizes too big. At least the shorts fit. His Aunt had said she’d be over later with some of his clothes. Until then he had to make due with what Tony had put in his drawers.

He wandered onto the common floor. It was unlikely that Steve and Bucky had made enough of their ‘snack’ for there to be leftovers, but a man could hope.

Thankfully, he was in luck- Bucky and Steve’s ‘snack’ appeared to still be in the process of being cooked.

“Don’t you have any clothes that actually fit you?” Sam demanded from the island where he was making salads. “You look like you got hit with a shrink ray.”

Peter shrugged, but otherwise ignored him. Sure, the shirt was all but falling off him, but he didn’t really care. “What are you making?” he asked hopefully, trying to sneak a peek past the wall of muscle that was Steve, blocking the stove.

“Spaghetti,” Bucky said, slicing up a loaf of french bread.

Peter made a noise of hopeful interest and turned on his best puppy dog eyes.

“Calm down, you can have some,” Steve said, smiling, and moved away from the stove to rummage in a cabinet.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked.

“My head is sore, but I feel fine,” Peter said, taking the opportunity to sneak a finger into the sauce, so he could steal a taste.

“Hey-” Bucky protested. “You’ll burn yourself doing that-”

Peter snorted. “And it’ll heal in like less than a minute,” he said, going around Steve and rummaging in the fridge.

“You still shouldn’t do it-” Bucky scolded.

“What are you even looking for-” Steve asked, amused. “It’s almost ready.”

“It needs a splash of wine. Do you have a red already open somewhere?” Peter said.

There was a beat of silence. “We don’t keep alcohol in the tower, Peter,” Steve said seriously.

Peter huffed at him, and shut the fridge. “I’m not going to _ drink _it- just put some in the sauce. Where’s the red already?” he asked, opening a likely cabinet. He could have sworn he’d seen some wine in here before-

“Peter- we don’t keep alcohol in the tower. Period.”

Peter stared at him, frowning. Steve seemed to be serious. He snuck a look at Bucky, who also seemed to be wearing his best poker face.

Seriously? Really? Were they _ that _ concerned that he was going to drink the damn stuff? The lie was just... insulting. He could understand if it was locked up or something like Ned’s parents did, but to lie right to his face? A spark of anger flared up in his belly.

He closed the cabinet with a little more force than necessary, and started back for the elevator.

The alphas made various noises of surprise.

“Whoa there king kong- take it easy-” Sam protested. “Where you going?”

“Not hungry anymore,” Peter said. “I’m going to the lab.” Tony had some snacks down there that he liked.

“Jarvis! Hold the elevator- no lab time today Peter,” Steve called after him sternly.

“What?” Peter asked, flabbergasted.

“You had a fairly serious concussion yesterday,” Steve said. “Bruce was very clear- you need rest. No small screens, no lab time.”

“But I-” Peter protested, trying to explain. He wouldn’t do lab things. Just...

“Peter. I said no,” Steve said.

Maybe it was Steve’s tone. Maybe it was the fact that he was recovering from a concussion. Maybe it was because Saturn was in decline. Who the fuck knows.

All Peter knew was that he just... burst into tears. Standing right there on the common floor, halfway in the elevator... just... crying like he’d just been told that science had been cancelled for forever.

Everyone froze.

“Peter?” Steve asked, hesitantly. Gently. Like you would to someone who’d suddenly turned crazy.

It made Peter cry harder. “You... you’re so... MEAN!” Peter sobbed, then fled down the emergency stairs.

He let the door to the stairwell slam shut behind him, and took the stairs two at a time- the most his stupidly short legs would allow.

“Peter!” he could hear Steve calling after him, but he ignored it. Sniffling and feeling like heel, Peter hopped over the railing and jumped his way down 8 stories to his personal floor. He put a hand to the biolock, and the door clicked open. He slammed that one behind him too.

He wound up huddled in a corner on the ceiling, hugging a pillow. Jesus Christ, what was WRONG with him? He sniffled miserably, and buried his face in the pillow.

“Young Master- the Captain is asking to come to your floor-” Jarvis asked, concerned.

“NO! Go away!”

“I will tell him. Do you wish for me to call for someone else? Sir, perhaps?”

“No,” he hiccuped, his face burning with shame.

“Perhaps young sir would like something to eat- some tacos, perhaps? I can have them delivered.”

Peter sniffed. “Tacos?” he asked hopefully, miserably.

“I shall arrange for a triple order. Would you like your usual root beer to go with it?”

Peter considered. “Yes,” he said sullenly. “Can... can I have strawberries?”

“Of course, Young Master. Do you want them covered in chocolate or pre-sliced?”

Peter considered, fidgeting. “Both?” he asked meekly.

“Certainly. Is there anything else you would like to add to your order?”

“Extra salsa?”

“Right away.”

Peter sniffled into his pillow. “Thank you Jarvis,” he said miserably.

“It is my pleasure.”

He cocooned in his bed and ate tacos while Jarvis played the original 1978 Halloween on his wall. He got around the ‘no small screens’ rule by using a large tablet to scroll on the internet.

Jarvis insisted on making the text extra large, so he wouldn’t strain his eyes.

“I feel like I’m 90,” he complained. “Can’t you make it so that there’s more than 4 words to a line?”

“There are currently 12 words displayed on the top line, Young Master,” Jarvis said, the little shit.

Peter huffed, and grumbled, but Jarvis was impervious, and did not budge.

On screen, Micheal Myers stood behind a clothesline, looming with his stupid white mask and glowing red eyes.

Peter hissed and tossed a crumpled up napkin at the screen. “Booo... stupid alphas!” Jamie Lee Curtis, playing the stupid clueless omega, startled at the sight, but didn’t do anything about it.

“Come on- at least get a baseball bat,” he heckled.

She, of course, did nothing of the sort.

He snorted, and went back to scrolling. He stopped, hand frozen. A headline from the Daily Bugle was trending on twitter.

“The A’crack’nid Menace: Spider-Man the Addict.”

_ What? _

He clicked on the link.

“An ‘anonymous source’ reported that the head doctor at the Avenger’s tower was fired last week after insisting the menace known as ‘Spider-Man’ be entered into rehab. The so-called hero had been admitted with symptoms of a cocaine overdose, but Tony Stark himself fired the man, in a blatant attempt at a cover up. The fact that Spider-Man has not been seen since begs the question: is he still recovering from a near-fatal overdose?”

They went on to cover why it was obvious he was high: his twitchness, the fact he never ever ever shut up. His stupid jokes (a sign of brain damage from all the drugs)...

He could feel himself deflate a little. Sure, he was corny. But brain-damage? They weren’t that bad... right?

And they were right. It’d been nearly two weeks since he’d been out and about as Spider-Man in public, or even gone on patrol.

He scowled at the tablet.

“Jarvis? Where’s my suit?” he asked.

“According to the tracker, it is currently at your house.”

It took some digging, but he found his phone and called May.

“Hey! How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fine! I’m fine!” he lied. “Look, when you bring my stuff, can you remember to bring my suit? I think it’s under the bed-”

“Your suit?” May asked, confused.

“You know- the one I patrol in?” he asked. “Jarvis said it’s at the house.”

There was a pause.

“May?”

“Did Tony say you could go patrolling?” May asked, her tone dangerous.

“What- no- I just-”

“You broke my sink with your face Peter,” May said seriously. “You are NOT going anywhere.”

“I- I wasn’t going to go out _ today _-” he protested.

“No. It’s staying right where it is.”

“But-”

“I said no, Peter. That’s final. If that’s all I have to go- I’m due in for another shift. I’ll drop off some clothes and some school work for you on my way-”

He never found out what she was going to say because he threw the phone at the wall with a snarl of rage. It dented the wall when it hit, shattered, then landed on the floor in pieces.

The sound of it breaking startled him, and he stared at it in open-mouthed horror. What the fuck... He burst into tears when he’d realized he’d just BROKEN HIS PHONE. He’d LIKED that phone. And now he’d gone and broken it for no reason- Aunt May was going to be _ pissed _...

And all of his pictures... he hadn’t backed up his pictures in nearly a month now- what if they were gone?

The crying turned into slightly hysterical sobbing.

He cocooned himself again.

He’d just managed to get the sobbing under control when the elevator door slid open and Tony stepped in.

“Hey kiddo. Heard you were having a rough day-” he said, surveying the remains of Peter’s lunch and the shattered phone with a wary eye.

Peter sniffed. “Go away,” he said whined tiredly, and burrowed deeper into his blankets.

“Your Aunt said you hung up on her,” he said. “She was worried about you.”

Peter whined.

Tony sat on the bed. “Your head hurt, honey?” he asked quietly.

Peter ignored him. The man had to get bored and go away eventually. Right?

Tony sat in silence for a moment.

“You watching Halloween? Never could stand that series,” he said. “Feral alphas just don’t behave like that. Micheal Myers is the least realistic serial killer ever.”

Peter chewed on a lip. Eventually curiosity won over. “You’ve seen an alpha go feral?” he asked quietly, peeking out from under his blankets.

“Sure. There was this guy- Killian- he was trying to make a drug that healed people. And it worked. But- and this is the kicker- it made the alphas go feral. Red eyes and everything. They’d go on rampages and just... well. Killed a lot of people. In fact it was so potent it made even betas go a little nuts. Not as bad as the alphas, of course,” he shrugged. “Of course, the fact that they also could shoot fire from their hands made them extra deadly, but... I gotta be honest here, I found the red eyes a hell of a lot scarier than the fire thing.”

“They shot fire from their hands?” Peter asked skeptically.

“They weren’t very good at it and it killed them in the process, but they were feral so they didn’t exactly care. Also their eyes didn’t glow like that-” Tony gestured at the movie, which showed glowing red eyes peering through slats in a closet door while a frightened Jamie Lee Curtis huddled in said closet.

“They were just... red. Entirely red. No white visible or anything. Very... unsettling.”

Peter gnawed a lip. “Has Steve ever-”

“No,” Tony said firmly. “Though apparently Hydra’s tried just about everything under the sun on him. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not-” Peter said instantly. “I just...” he sighed.

“You wanna talk about today? Steve says you were a bit... emotional earlier.”

Peter fidgeted, and huffed.

“Kid?”

“He thinks I’m going to try to get drunk or something,” Peter said eventually, his voice full of resentment.

“What?!”

Peter huffed again. “I wouldn’t!” he protested.

“Hang on. I think I’ve lost the plot here. Why don’t we backtrack a bit. You went into the kitchen and....” Tony prompted.

Peter grouched. “They were making spaghetti. But the sauce needed some wine. I asked them where they kept the red- and he said that there’s no alcohol in the tower.”

Tony considered this. “And?” he asked eventually.

Peter glared at him through a gap in his blankets. “He _ lied _ to me Tony. Right to my face,” he said, feeling like he was on the verge of tears again. “Like I’m _ stupid _ . I mean- I get it. Ned’s parents keep it locked up, but he _ lied _ to me- like I can’t be trusted with even knowing where stupid red wine is-”

Tony frowned at him. “What?” he asked, clearly confused.

Peter huffed. “I’ve seen it around. I know there’s like an entire case of whiskey in the Mark 5 cradle. So don’t tell _ me _ there’s no freakin red wine for a stupid sauce-” he bitched. “And there’s that foreign stuff in the ceiling of the lab- why you keep it in the ceiling I have no idea. But I haven’t even touched it!”

Tony for some reason, had apparently stopped breathing.

“Tony?” Peter asked, concerned. “You know... I wouldn’t drink it, right? I’m not old enough- _ I know- _”

“No. I know, Peter,” Tony said. “But ah... I gotta ask you not to mention the... the ah... booze to Steve. He... he doesn’t like it.”

Peter peered up at Tony. There was something... off about him right now, but Peter couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. But his spider sense wasn’t going off...

So... Tony was having to hide his booze from Steve? It kind of made sense. Steve did seem like a bit of a stick-in-the-mud if he didn’t even believe in putting wine in a freakin’ _ sauce. _ And Tony... well. He was the kind who struck Peter who liked having more wine in him than the sauce by the end of a night of cooking.

Not that there was anything wrong with that. His Aunt did that sometimes.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t tell Steve.”

Tony relaxed, then went rigid again. “Don’t tell Bucky either. He’ll tattle. He can’t keep anything-”

“I won’t tell,” Peter whined. “I can keep a secret-” he protested.

Tony gave him a Look.

“I CAN!”

“Good. So what happened to your phone?” he asked. “I gather you didn’t actually hang up on your Aunt.”

Peter reburied himself. “Accident,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry. I don’t speak muffled blanket. You’re going to have to speak up kiddo.”

“Accident,” Peter said, grudgingly louder.

Tony considered this for a moment. “So... you were talking to your Aunt... and it just... slipped right out of your hands?”

Peter considered. “Yes,” he said sullenly.

“And then it grew wings and committed suicide against a wall?” Tony continued skeptically. “Because I gotta say Pete, not even my phones can do that.”

Peter sniffed miserably. “She’s going to be _ so mad _,” he said forlornly. “She got me that phone for Christmas.”

“So... just to be clear, you did throw it-”

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to!” Peter protested. “I didn’t! I just...” he made a noise of frustration.

Tony sat there for a moment. He sighed deeply.

“I’ll tell you what. You and me are going to go down to see Cho-”

Peter groaned. Tony ignored him and just talked louder, “And then- THEN we’ll see if I have a spare StarkPhone laying around that you can have.”

Peter froze. The blankets came off his head. “I... I can have a new StarkPhone?” he asked incredulously.

“Hey! He lives!” Tony snarked. “And yes- you can. IF-” Tony glared at him. “IF you go with me to see Cho with no bitching, AND if you promise to keep your mouth shut about the whole... mark 5 thing.”

Peter pouted and examined the floor. “Can I bi-”

Tony gave him a Look.

“I mean- complain when it’s over?” he asked.

“No.”

Peter heaved a sigh. “Fine,” he said as if Tony had just asked him to spelunk a sewer without a wet suit.

He sat on a gurney and tried to be still as Cho carefully prodded his head.

“Have you been tired today?” she asked.

“I guess,” Peter said, grumpy. He was starting to hate MedBay.

“How is it?” Tony demanded from a nearby chair.

“It’s healing well. But the mood swings concern me. It might be a sign of something serious. I’m going to order an MRI of his brain to be on the safe side.”

Peter froze. “Serious... like a brain tumor?” he asked, alarmed.

Cho gave him a gentle smile. “No. Not a tumor. But you hit your head pretty hard last night, remember? I need to check for swelling or anything else your healing factor might not be dealing with.”

“Oh,” her answer didn’t exactly reassure him.

“Hey- look at me. You are going to be _ just fine _-” Tony insisted. He got out of his seat to give Peter a hug. “This is just a precaution, okay?”

Peter could feel himself settle a bit. “Okay,” he agreed.

They gave him earplugs and noise cancelling earphones.

“I’m not going to lie to you Peter- it’s going to be loud in there, okay? But I need you to lay still for the entire time. It’s important,” Cho said.

Peter nodded, and eyed the machine uncertainty. It was huge, and shaped like a doughnut. He knew enough that he was supposed to lay in the middle hole. The hole seemed a lot smaller in person than it looked when they showed it on TV on the medical shows...

“Tony and I will be in the control room-” she pointed at a wall with glass in it, beyond it lay computers. “And Raoul here will be right next to you the whole time.”

An alpha in scrubs gave Peter a big smile. “Hey Pete.”

“Hey,” Peter said lamely.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine,” Raoul said. “We’ve done this thousands of times.”

Peter sniffed.

“If anything goes wrong, any one of us can push a button that will stop it,” Cho was saying.

“And remember- no complaining and you get a phone,” Tony said.

“I’m not a baby-” Peter complained. “I know how it works. Aunt May and I watch Grey’s Anatomy like all the time. I can do it.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I’ll let you have that one Pete,” he said, amused, and ruffled Peter’s hair.

Peter huffed, and gently swatted the man’s hand away.

“Can we get this over with already?” he asked.

It was... odd. They had him lay on a little table with a pillow under his knees. They velcroed him down with some sort of fabric swaddle thing over his shoulders and chest. Earplugs and headphones went on next. Then they put some sort of strange helmet thing on around his head. It was attached to the table and didn’t physically touch him - but...

“Ready?” Raoul shouted. He was muffled, but Peter could make him out.

Peter gave a thumbs up.

They started. The little table slid into the machine.

“Remember- stay still Peter,” Cho said over his headphones.

Peter gave another thumbs up.

The machine... was LOUD. It thumped and whistled and there was some sort of siren thing that beeped then stopped and started again apparently randomly.

He felt his breathing rate increase.

“You’re fine, kid. Keep it up and that phone is yours,” Tony said over the headphones.

Right. He had to be Good.

“Peter- I want you to slow down your breathing a bit,” Cho said. “Can you inhale, count to 10, then exhale for me?”

He tried.

Was it his imagination or did the machine get louder?

“Almost done, Pete,” Tony said.

His spider sense went off. One minute he was fine, the next it was screaming at him. He jerked, but tried to ignore it.

“Pete it’s okay. Stay still, remember?” Raoul shouted.

Stressed, he whined. His right leg started up-

“**Be still**.” Raoul ordered.

Peter froze. Physically froze. So hard it hurt. He couldn’t. He couldn’t-

“Good boy,” Raoul said.

A large warm hand touched his belly.

*****

He was being squashed directly into the cold floor by something large, warm and heavy. Someone, somewhere, was screaming like they were being murdered.

He wished they’d shut up. Maybe then he could breathe properly.

Above him an alpha rumbled. Another joined in. Woodsmoke and coffee. Coffee with caramel. Steve. Bucky.

A large hand scruffed him. The screaming, thankfully, stopped. He shook.

“Peter. Can you hear me? It’s okay. It’s over. You’re at the tower. You’re safe. We have you,” a voice was saying. It sounded like it had been crying.

A hand went through his hair. Another went up and down his side- scent marking him.

He was safe. The pack alphas were there. He shuddered, and went limp.

“That’s it. Relax honey. You’re safe. You’re at the Tower. I’m here- Steve and Bucky are here too- it’s over. We stopped.”

Tony. That was Tony.

Peter blinked. It was hard to think. “Omeega?” he slurred.

“That’s it. We’re here. You’re safe honey,” that was Steve, rumbling deep and low in his ear.

Peter sighed. “Tired,” he bitched.

“Go to sleep sweetheart. You’ll feel better afterwards. I promise,” Steve said.

That made sense. And he trusted Steve. He went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People keep asking: Is Harley going to meet Peter? Fuck yes he is. He’s actually going to move into the tower. And then there’s going to be so many FEEEELINGS. Almost all of them in fact. With extra drama on the side. I think I’m looking forward to writing those bits as much as ya’ll are to reading them! But patience, my little grasshoppers. Harley and Peter aren’t quite ready to meet this exact minute.... some more Plot needs to happen first.


	32. A White Picket Fence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: The one with a billion pages of domestic type conversations. So... much... dialog.... 
> 
> Witness the daring return of our most persistent villain: Miss Communication. In this chapter we get a peak at the heartache that can happen when you don’t use your WORDS like an ADULT and instead make wild ass assumptions based on out of context observations. 
> 
> Exhibit A: Steve. 
> 
> Also, I'm sick and this is so hot off the presses it's still steaming. Again- editing? Who's that?

Like most good things in life, the quiet gathering of the alphas of the pack happened organically. Steve and Bucky came in from their morning run and sparred a little before slouching on a nearby bench and heckling Sam, who was running on a treadmill.

“Lift those knees, airman!” Bucky sniggered, and tossed a peanut, wildly missing.

“Fuck.... you....” Sam huffed.

“How many miles is he at, Jarvis?” Steve asked.

“He is approaching five miles,” Jarvis said.

“Them’s rookie numbers!” Bucky heckled good naturedly.

Sam flipped him the bird.

“Bucky, come on. He’s not enhanced,” Steve gently scolded, smiling. “I remember when you got winded going up stairs.”

Bucky snorted. “That was like a million years ago,” he said. “It don’t count.”

“Actually, it was right after you got defrosted,” Steve said.

Bucky whipped around to stare at Steve. “I- that- is a LIE.”

“Nope. It took at least a week before you got your feet under you properly,” Steve said.

Bucky tsked and sulked. “Bringing up stuff I can’t remember is cheating,” he complained.

Sam turned off the machine and staggered over. “Don’t you two have omegas you should be wooing or something?” he demanded, wiping his face with a towel.

“Tony’s probably still sleeping,” Steve said.

“Darcy’s gone shoppin’,” Bucky said. “She said she never did get those sheets from Wal-Mart she was needin’.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You let her go to Wal-Mart by herself after what happened to Peter?”

“Nah. She’s going to some place called Target. There’s one not far from here. And Happy’s with her. Plus Clint and Nat are taking care of that whole... mess,” Bucky said, waving a hand vaguely.

Steve nodded. “Clint texted me a little while ago. They’ve got several names they’re chasing down. Shouldn’t be long before they crack it open and hand it over to the FBI.”

“Not SHIELD?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Omega trafficking rings aren’t weird enough,” he said.

Sam pulled a face.

Steve considered his watch. “Anyone else hungry?”

“Always,” Bucky said.

“I could eat,” Sam said. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, it’s a little early, but I was thinking if we started now, we could make something and have it ready for the omegas for lunch.”

Sam snorted. “Don’t hurt yourself there, Romeo,” he said playfully. “I thought I was supposed to be the pack’s house alpha.”

Steve scowled and tossed a sweat soaked towel at Sam, who dodged it like it was contaminated with acid. “You want some or not?” he demanded.

“Fine, fine! I’ll help with the wooing,” Sam said. “IF you lot take a shower first.”

“Sounds good. Meet in the common kitchen in 10?” Bucky said, already getting up.

“See you in 10,” Steve agreed.

It was more like 15, but no one cared or commented.

Sam was already rattling around in a cabinet.

“Any ideas?” Steve asked.

“Well... we could do soup, or something with a red sauce,” Sam said.

“What about bread? What do we have?” Bucky asked, joining them.

“French,” Sam said.

“Spaghetti with garlic bread it is then,” Bucky said.

They got to work, quietly falling into roles. Steve built the sauce while Bucky hunted down the bread and the garlic. Sam scavenged the fridge for salad fixings. It was nice- working together like this. It was... restful.

After a while the elevator slid open and Peter emerged.

“Don’t you have any clothes that actually fit you?” Sam demanded from the island where he was making salads. “You look like you got hit with a shrink ray.”

Steve eyed the boy. It looked like he was wearing one of Steve’s workout shirts. He quickly hid an amused smile. He looked adorable- but Steve remembered being that small, and knew that being called ‘adorable’ wouldn’t amuse the small omega.

Peter shrugged. “What are you making?” he asked curiously, crowding Steve at the stove.

“Spaghetti,” Bucky said, slicing up a loaf of french bread.

Peter whined and made puppy dog eyes at Steve.

“Calm down, you can have some,” Steve said, smiling, and moved away from the stove to rummage in a cabinet. The sauce needed some more basil.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked.

“My head is sore, but I feel fine,” Peter said, sneaking taste with a finger.

“Hey-” Bucky protested. “You’ll burn yourself doing that-”

Peter snorted. “And it’ll heal in like less than a minute,” he said, going around Steve and to rummage in the fridge.

“You still shouldn’t do it-” Bucky scolded.

“What are you even looking for-” Steve asked, amused. “It’s almost ready.”

“It needs a splash of wine. Do you have a red already open somewhere?” Peter said.

There was a beat of silence. “We don’t keep alcohol in the tower, Peter,” Steve said seriously.

Peter huffed at him, and shut the fridge. “I’m not going to _ drink _it- just put some in the sauce. Where’s the red already?” he asked, opening another cabinet.

“Peter- we don’t keep alcohol in the tower. Period.”

Peter stared at him, frowning. Steve could swear that he could practically see the little gears turning in his head.

He slammed the cabinet door shut, and started stalking off towards the elevator.

The alphas made various noises of surprise.

“Whoa there king kong- take it easy-” Sam protested. “Where you going?”

“Not hungry anymore,” Peter snapped. “I’m going to the lab.”

Not on Steve’s watch he wasn’t- especially after _ that _ little display.

“Jarvis! Hold the elevator- no lab time today Peter,” Steve called after him sternly.

“What?” Peter asked, shocked.

“You had a fairly serious concussion yesterday,” Steve said. “Bruce was very clear- you need rest. No small screens, no lab time.”

“But I-” Peter sputtered.

“Peter. I said no,” Steve said firmly. He would not be argued with.

Peter gaped at Steve for a moment before bursting into full blown sobbing tears.

Everyone froze.

“Peter?” Steve asked, gently. Had he spoken too harshly? It was hard, sometimes, to remember just how sensitive the child really was.

The question made Peter cry harder. “You... you’re so... MEAN!” Peter sobbed, then fled down the emergency stairs.

It was like being stabbed.

“Peter!” he called out after him- rushing to the stairs. The way things had been going, the little omega would trip and break his neck... he got there just in time to see Peter slipping over the railing several floors beneath him.

He let out an irritated huff. The boy should be called Spider-Monkey not Spider-Man.

He went back to the common floor.

“He alright?” Bucky asked.

“I think he went to his floor. Jarvis?”

“Peter is in his room,” Jarvis reported.

“What is he doing?” Steve demanded.

“Privacy protocols do not allow me to answer that,” Jarvis said primly.

Steve winced. Great. That meant he was crying. He stepped into the elevator. “Peter’s floor.”

There was a pause. “I’m sorry Captain. Peter has denied your request.”

“Man, just leave the kid alone,” Sam said. “Sometimes you just gotta let them cry it out.”

“Does anyone have a guess as to what that was about?” Bucky asked.

Sam snorted. “He’s an omega, man. It could be anything.”

Steve stewed, but went back to the sauce.

Bucky eyed him. “You that upset about it?” he asked.

“He called me ‘mean’-” Steve protested.

Sam barked a laugh. “Oh man. You’ve _ got _ to grow a thicker skin. What are you going to do when you have a kid?”

“Yeah- how is that? You’ve been with Tony for what- two heat cycles now?” Bucky asked.

“Three,” Steve said. He took a breath. Forced himself to relax. They didn’t know. He shrugged. “I guess it’ll happen when it happens,” he said flippantly. “What about you, Buck? You and Darcy seem happy.”

Buck flushed. “She says it’s too soon to tell. But...”

“Buuut...” Sam said, egging him on.

He flushed harder. “We’re hopin’ it took,” he said. “Darcy said she wants at least four.”

Sam cackled. “Oh god- four mini Buckys running around? I think the world might actually end-” he abruptly stopped laughing. “Wait... wait... would they be like... super toddlers? Am I going to have to be worried about being broken in half by a two year old?”

Bucky also froze. “I... don’t know. Steve?”

Steve stirred the sauce. “Mine wouldn’t transfer,” he said quietly. “I don’t know about yours, Buck. You got a different serum than I did. You should probably talk to Banner about it. He would know.”

Bucky rubbed his face. “Oh god, I hope not. Peter’s bad enough as it is, and he’s a sweetheart. Can you imagine if he just lost his shit one day? The kid could probably level a city or something-”

“Wait- how come you already know Steve? You and Tony been planning that much?” Sam asked.

Steve shook his head. “SHIELD checked it. Was probably one of the first things they did when I came out of the ice. Wanted to make sure they wouldn’t get cloned super soldiers running around if I happened to bleed on a battlefield.”

“Really?” Sam said, then huffed. “I always _ knew _ SHIELD were nothing but cynical bastards.”

“How many are you going to have?” Bucky asked. “You still want two?”

_ Fuck. _If they were asking him... who knows what Darcy would ask Tony. He needed to put a lid on this.

“Tony can’t have any,” he said simply, deciding to cut to the chase.

There was silence. “Wait... what?” Bucky asked, horrified.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, concerned... “He’s a bit older- it might take a while longer-”

Steve shook his head. “I asked him once if I should use protection during his heat. He said it didn’t matter. I haven’t since and...” he trailed off, biting a lip. The unspoken ‘and nothing’s happened’ hung in the air. “Anyway, he’s sensitive about it. I’m gonna need you to talk to Darcy. I’m happy for you two- I am. But... you didn’t see him at Wal-Mart, Bucky. He was real tore up about the whole baby thing. She can’t talk about this with him.”

More silence.

“Jesus.. I’m sorry Steve ... I didn’t know-” Bucky stuttered.

“How could you? It hasn’t come up before,” Steve said. “But I mean it when I say I want you to talk to Darcy. I don’t want to spoil things- it’s your first and you have a right to be excited- but... maybe don’t be surprised if Tony has an emergency trip to Tokyo the day before the baby shower.”

There was a moment of silence as the men absorbed this.

“Hey- good news- you’re gonna be a great Uncle, man. Uncling is like the best. You can get them all high and twitchy on sugar then send them home for all the times their parents fucked with you when you were kids,” Sam said.

Bucky choked. “Oh god- please don’t,” he pleaded.

Sam cackled.

Steve relaxed, grateful for the change of subject.

“What about you Sam? You got someone special?” Steve asked.

Sam groaned. “Uh, I wish. Saying ‘Yo. I’m an Avenger’ is a great panty dropper, but the whole ‘I might be out fighting robots and miss our anniversary' part isn’t great for long term relationships.”

Bucky snorted. “You don’t have to worry about that now, though- right? Stevie said he made you the house alpha.”

Sam sighed. “I guess. What can I say? I’m still waiting for my VA transfer to go through and I can only hang around in coffee shops for so long before it starts to get creepy.”

“You don’t go to...” Steve paused, searching for the right word. “Clubs? Dance halls or whatever? Bucky and I used to go there all the time-”

“If I was like 10 years younger, sure. But the music is too loud. Gives me a headache. And the drink prices are just stupid,” Sam grumbled. “Especially here in New York. I’d rather get drunk at home, honestly.”

“Wait. Has anyone told you the rules about alcohol?” Bucky asked suddenly.

“Rules?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“It stays in on your floor. No public areas. No leaving it out. Tony’s a recovering alcoholic. He doesn’t need the temptation,” Steve said firmly.

Sam whistled. “Okay. I can do that,” he said. He paused. “Wait... didn’t you just tell Peter-?”

Steve shrugged. “He’s underage. He doesn’t need to know.” Steve paused. “Tony doesn’t need to know either,” he said firmly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Okay...” he said slowly. “Not the healthiest approach to this, but I get it.”

“What’s not healthy? Can I have some?” Tony asked, coming out of the elevator.

“We’re having spaghetti for lunch. You want some?” Steve asked, melting a bit at the sight of his rumpled omega. Tony was always extra grumpy and adorable when he first woke up. “Depends. Is there garlic bread?” Tony asked, rubbing his face and going straight for the coffee pot.

“Yes,” Steve said.

“I’m in,” Tony said. He took a sip from his mug. “Anyone seen itsy bitsy? He should be eating right about now-”

Bucky snorted. “He was here. Had a fit. Left.”

“What?” Tony demanded. “It’s pretty much what Bucky said. One minute he was fine, the next he was storming off. Had a bit of a meltdown when Steve said he couldn’t go to the lab,” Sam said.

Tony frowned. “That’s not like him,” he muttered.

Sam shrugged. “He IS a new omega. You should have seen my sister when she got her Scent. I think I lived in a tree in the backyard for a week just so I wouldn’t get stuff thrown at me.”

Bucky snorted. “Rebecca was like that too,” he said fondly. “I remember she cried once for an entire day because she got a rip in her dress. I thought she’d drown us all with her tears.”

Tony mulled it over. “How’s he doing Jarvis?” he asked.

“Peter is eating and watching a movie,” Jarvis said.

“See? He’s fine,” Sam said.

Steve frowned. “I don’t know,” he said carefully. “Isn’t mood swings a sign of a concussion gone bad? Cho said he’s lucky he didn’t crack his skull.”

Tony sighed. “She also didn’t want to do another MRI scan unless she had too. He just had one like two days ago,” he said.

Steve shook his head. “I’m worried though. What’s the harm in asking her?”

“I’ll talk to him, and take him to see Cho. See what she wants to do,” Tony said, relenting.

“Jarvis, how far out is Darcy?” Bucky asked.

“She is currently unloading her shopping on your floor.”

“Can you ask her to come up for lunch?”

“Of course Sergeant,” Jarvis said.

Sam and Bucky set the table while Steve fiddled with the sauce one last time. Tony drained the pasta.

A few minutes later Darcy flounced in. “OOoh... do I smell garlic bread?” she demanded, going up on tiptoes to give Bucky a kiss on the cheek.

“You bet your ass,” Bucky rumbled, pleased, and gave her a quick peck back. “Take a seat, doll.”

“Ah, I could get used to this,” Darcy sighed, sitting down and letting Bucky bring her a plate. She looked around. “Where is everyone?”

“Clint and Natasha are hunting down an omega trafficking ring. Ran into a few speed bumps. Apparently it’s tuned into some multi-state cartel thing that they think extends as far west as Tennessee. They’ll be out of town until probably Saturday,” Steve said.

“Well that’s just awful,” Darcy said. “And Peter?”

“He’s in his room, probably sulking,” Sam said.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Bucky shrugged. Told him he couldn’t go to the lab. Had a fit.”

“Does he normally do that?”

“No,” Tony said. “I’ll talk to him in a bit.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. I remember that age. It was just horrible. I think I cried twice a day for like a year.”

Sam winced. “Tony, do you know when the furniture is coming in?”

“Last I heard it was tomorrow,” Tony said, helping himself to some more garlic bread.

“Are you guys going to help put the IKEA stuff together?” Sam asked.

“I’ve already drafted Bucky to help with Jane’s things,” Darcy said. “What do you have? Just one bookcase?”

“I have two bookcases.”

Steve frowned. “And we have those two night stands and the end tables,” he said.

“Guys- you’re missing the big picture-” Tony said suddenly.

“Oh? And what’s that?” Sam asked.

“SHIELD. We’ve literally have access to SHIELD minions. And I’ll bet you Coulson has a few on his shitlist who are due for a ‘training exercise’.”

Darcy snorted into her drink. “SHIELD putting together my IKEA? I’m down for that-”

“Tony we want it assembled, not put together with duct tape and sledgehammers,” Bucky said.

Tony waved a hand. “So they’ll need supervision. It’s... a teamwork test. Cheaters don’t get points. Something.”

“Coulson isn’t our biggest fan right now,” Steve offered, amused.

“I don’t know. I know he hates some of his co-workers almost more than he hates us,” Sam offered. “He might go for it.”

“Oh? Is there trouble in the ranks?” Tony asked eagerly. “Come on, share with the class-”

Sam shrugged. “SHIELD hires a lot of veterans. Word gets around, especially the VA- it’s not a bad place to work, but you do NOT want to get on Coulson’s shit list. He has a thing for burying people in paperwork and asking for forms that don’t exist if you piss him off.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh god, that sounds like a special kind of hell. I remember how much of a pain in the ass it was just to get the requisition forms during the war. Do you remember that one place in England? They ran out of paper for the forms but the quartermaster didn’t care. Wouldn’t give you so much as a bullet without the paperwork.”

Steve snickered. “Jacques gave him a form written out on the back of a... girlie poster he stole off a wall somewhere.”

“Wait, wait... is a ‘girlie poster’ what I think it is?” Sam demanded.

Steve shrugged, grinning. “Probably. We were near a base. Bases mean lonely men... and there were... establishments to, ah... help with that. ”

“Are you talking about strip clubs?” Darcy demanded, shocked.

“Something like that,” Steve said.

“Did he take it?” Tony asked.

“He had to. It had the commander’s stamp on it,” Steve said.

Bucky frowned at him, considering. “How _ did _ we manage that?” he asked. “Don’t remember the commander there as being...” he shrugged.

“He wasn’t. I may have ‘borrowed’ his stamp for a bit. We were shipping out that night. We needed supplies... so... I made sure we got them.”

Sam and Tony sniggered.

“Holy shit- you forged something?” Darcy demanded, shocked. “But... you’re Captain America!”

Sam and Tony laughed harder.

“Welcome to the pack, doll,” Bucky said sympathetically, failing at hiding a smile, and gave her a kiss to the side of her head.

She scowled at her spaghetti. “I feel like I’ve been lied to,” she complained.

“You’ll get over it. Everyone does,” Bucky said.

“Speaking of shipping out- when do you guys go back on roster?” Sam asked.

“Monday. Hopefully things with Peter will settle down before then,” Steve said, sighing. “I know you’ll keep an eye on him, but-”

“But he’s a super powered teenager with angst issues and you’re not,” Bucky said dryly.

“Everyone has angst issues at that age,” Tony said, irritated. “It’s like... the law or something. I’m surprised he doesn’t have _ more _ angst issues, honestly.”

“He’ll be fine,” Darcy said. “I’ll be here too- poor kid could probably use a spa day,” she said.

“A spa day?” Tony asked, confused.

“You know- face masks. Pedicures. Stupid movies. A spa day,” Darcy said. “Jane’s probably overdue for one, honestly. With the move and the new lab space... she needs a break from all the geeking out and science she’s been doing lately.”

“Has she heard from Thor?” Steve asked.

Darcy froze. “No,” she said, suddenly icy. “And she’s kind of freaking out about that, honestly, so...”

“No mentioning it,” Sam said. “Got it.”

“Sir, forgive the interruption, but a matter has been flagged by Ms. Potts for your immediate attention,” Jarvis said cooly.

“What is it?” Tony demanded.

“The New York Post, the Daily News, and TMZ have all published pictures of what I believe is your shopping trip to IKEA.”

“Throw them up J. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Several pictures appeared on the wall. They all looked like they were taken with a cell phone. One showed Steve sitting on a couch, looking thoughtfully at it while Tony talked animatedly at him. Another featured Sam and Bucky standing in front a bookcase, notepad in hand. Sam was pointing at something on the pad, looking serious while Bucky squinted up at the bookcase like it held the answers to life’s mysteries.

The last subject appeared to be the most popular- several angles of Darcy sitting on Bucky’s lap while the entire team ate at some tables in the cafeteria. The one with the most watermarks on it showed Bucky giving her a kiss to the side of her head while she laughed- her brand new mating bite peeking out above the collar of her shirt.

Everyone glanced nervously at Darcy and Bucky.

“Holy shit- that’s like an awesome picture of me!” Darcy exclaimed. “Can I get a copy of that?”

Bucky, meanwhile let out a small snarl, clearly unhappy.

“What’s the headlines, J?” Tony asked.

“Mostly positive. They all wonder who the woman is.”

Tony considered, playing with his fork. “Anyone focus on the kid?”

“None so far. Darcy has all of their attention.”

“Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later,” Tony said. “Anyone with correct guesses so far?”

“No sir. They all refer to her as ‘the mystery woman.”

Darcy gasped. “I always wanted to be one of those!” she said.

Bucky grumbled, still clearly unhappy.

“It’s up to you if you want to make an announcement,” Tony said. “You’ve been more low key than Steve and I.”

“No,” Bucky said. “I don’t want her name in the papers,” he said firmly.

Darcy scowled, then sighed. “Dude. It won’t matter. The minute my sister sees that picture she’s going to be on the phone trying to be on the 5 o’clock news. They won’t even have to dig for dirt on me. She’ll bring the naked baby pictures to them,” she grumbled. “Which is why I haven’t told my mom yet- because _ then _ she’d tell Stacey, and...” she rubbed her face. “Stupid attention whore,” she muttered.

“Family issues?” Tony asked neutrally.

She snorted. “You could say that.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky. “At least if you do it, you can get out in front of this,” he said.

“You mean like a train or like a firing squad?” Bucky snarked.

“Don’t be a baby. She’ll be fine. She’s got the world’s grouchiest sniper as her mate and if need be, I can have Happy look into getting her some body guards for when she goes out,” Tony said.

Darcy made a face. “Ugh. Guards?”

“Would you rather be the princess that needs saving?” Sam asked, serious. “Because in real life they don’t chill in towers but basements.”

“Don’t scare her-” Bucky snapped, snaking an arm around his omega and pulling her close.

“I’m not scared,” Darcy said. “I’m mildly pissed that I might have to talk to my mother again.”

“You don’t have to talk to anyone. Tony has people to do that if we need, right Tony?” Steve asked.

Tony nodded. “I have like literal floors of lawyers. I’m sure they can figure something out. If nothing else we can always pay them off to sign an NDA or something.”

Darcy looked slightly sick. “That might work, but I hate to give them money-”

“If that’s what’s it takes to keep you safe, we’re doing it,” Bucky said firmly.

“Any other surprises J?”

“The Bugle is citing an inside source in the Tower that says that Spider-Man is a crack addict.”

Everyone took a moment there.

“What?” Tony demanded.

“According to them, Spider-Man suffered a near fatal overdose of cocaine. You fired a doctor who wanted to put him in rehab-”

Tony rubbed his face. “Fuck. That’s enough J.”

“Tony?” Steve asked, confused.

“It’s... a garbled version of the truth. When we first brought him in, Doctor Connors was convinced the kid had ODed on coke for some stupid reason. Natasha fired him for being incompetent. Tried to give the kid more drugs-” pissed, he waved a hand vaguely. “I don’t think anyone will take it seriously. But more importantly-”

“We have a leak in the MedBay,” Sam said.

“Exactly. Jarvis, put someone on that- I want to know if it was the doctor or someone who’s still here.”

“I will contact someone in legal,” Jarvis said.

Tony sighed, and picked at his mostly empty plate. “Right. So. Steve- can you talk to Coulson about the minions? I’m gonna go talk to Peter. And _ you _-” he pointed at Bucky. “You have a couple of days to decide what you want to do, alright? But sooner is better, yeah?”

Bucky grumbled. “I’ll think about it,” he said sullenly. “Wonderful. Steve?”

“I’ll talk to Coulson,” he agreed, dryly. He wondered how that conversation was going to go.

“Great. See you later,” Tony said, and gave Steve a quick kiss on the cheek as he went past.

Steve beamed at him, and managed to land a peck of his own.

20 minutes later he was putting dishes away with Sam, with a phone to his ear.

“What’s the emergency? I can have someone there in 10 minutes-” Coulson said.

Steve hid a smile, and tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. “You can calm down, Coulson, nothing’s on fire. I just wanted to give you an update.”

There was a moment of silence. “Okay...” he said, clearly suspicious.

“Peter’s been having more medical issues. We’ve moved him to the Tower,” he said. “Is that where you went last night with the quinjet?” Coulson asked. “Yeah. Kid fell in the middle of the night in the bathroom. Took a chunk out of a sink with his head. Our doctor says he has a concussion. And the day before he got confused and left school early and managed to walk to Brooklyn. Gave us all a heart attack.”

“And the crazy car thing on Sunday?”

Steve sighed. “That was Peter again. We were out shopping and someone sprayed him in the face with a drug and tried to walk off with him. I’ve got Clint and Nat on it. They say it’s a trafficking ring. Nabs kids. Sells them. He had a bad reaction.”

Coulson was quiet for a minute. “Jesus. Are you locking him down?”

“He’s in the tower. Tony put a bracelet on him in case he gets confused again. Jarvis is keeping an eye on him. And he’s staying here until further notice.”

“Right. Anything else?”

Steve hesitated.

“Your silence is not filling me with confidence, Captain.”

“You have any trainees you can spare?” Steve asked.

“For what?”

“IKEA furniture. We’ve got like a bunch of bookcases and stuff coming in tomorrow.”

Coulson was quiet for a second. “Let me get this straight. You want some me to give you some of the most highly trained people on earth... to assemble IKEA furniture?”

“Tony said you could give it to people you hate. Frame it as a training exercise in teamwork or something.”

More silence.

“Would 10 people be enough?”

Steve grinned. “Should be.”

“They’ll be there at 8am.”

“I can work with that,” Steve said. “Thank you Coulson.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s it for now.”

“Thank you for the update. I’m afraid I have to go-”

“Bye Coulson,” Steve said, and hung up.

“You can head on out, I’m good here man,” Sam said.

“You sure?”

Sam gave him a look. “There’s like 3 dishes left. Don’t insult me like that, man.”

Steve chuckled. “Fine,” he said, and clapped Sam on the back ever so slightly too hard- making Sam nearly drop the glass he was holding. Sam glared at him, and growled a bit.

Steve winced. He hadn’t meant to do that. “Sorry- sorry-”

“Just get out of here. Go draw or something,” Sam bitched.

“I’m going! I’m going!” Steve said defensively and headed for the elevator. “My old floor, Jarvis,” he said.

When he stepped out into the apartment it was... odd. He almost expected a layer of dust or something since it had been a while since he’d been up here. But it looked like the Tower’s incredibly competent cleaning staff had kept things from turning into too much of mausoleum dedicated to Steve’s bachelorhood.

He puttered around, digging out a sketchbook and some pencils. For the millionth time he decided he really should look into getting a proper drafting table. Someday.

He settled down on a couch near a window and started sketching.

He was half way through a sketch of Tony’s face while he slept when Jarvis spoke up.

“Captain- there is a situation in the Medical Bay. Peter is having an episode-”

He was already in the elevator before Jarvis could finish speaking.

When he got there he didn’t have to ask for directions. He ran, following the screaming and the scent of blood.

Tony caught him outside a room.

“We shut it down, but he’s inside. You have to get him out Steve- he’s hurting himself-” he babbled, his hands moving almost hysterically as he spoke.

Steve didn’t wait for context. He kicked the door down. An alpha wearing scrubs lay crumpled on the floor in a heap below a dent in the wall. Steve ignored him. His attention was the giant machine that took up most of the room. It was shaped like a doughnut, and Peter was inside it. He sounded like he was in the middle of being murdered. There was a horrific thudding noise that Steve knew all to well- the sound of flesh being hurled against something incredibly heavy and made of metal. The kid was trying to fight his way out of the damn thing.

Steve grabbed an ankle as it sailed past his ear and yanked, hard. The kid came out, flailing, and screamed even harder as he hit the floor. Steve grunted as he took a couple of hits as he tried to get a grip on the boy- but he as flexible as he was hysterical and he was slippery from all the blood that was coming from fucking somewhere.

“Get his arms-” Bucky shouted, appearing out of nowhere, and tackling the kid’s legs.

“Peter- stop! It’s me-” Steve tried. Eventually he got a hold of an arm and pinned it.

Peter’s screams shifted. Now they sounded less like panic and more like pain.

“Shit- pin him already Steve!” Bucky shouted as Peter nearly kicked him off. “He’s hurting himself!”

Steve gave up and threw himself bodily on the omega. Peter got in a few hits to his back- probably trying to get him off before Steve managed to get the kid’s face into the crook of his neck.

“Shh....” Steve said, and finally got a hand around where he could scruff the teenager. The omega immediately went limp.

Tony rushed in the second it was obvious the kid was no longer in danger of killing someone by accident, and knelt by the kid’s head.

“Peter. Can you hear me? It’s okay. It’s over. You’re at the tower. You’re safe. We have you,” Tony said, tears running down his face. He ran a hand through Peter’s hair.

Below them, Bucky ran a hand soothingly up and down the kid’s side, scent marking him.

Peter groaned.

“That’s it. Relax honey. You’re safe. You’re at the Tower. I’m here- Steve and Bucky are here too- it’s over. We stopped.” Tony babbled.

“Omeega?” Peter slurred.

“That’s it. We’re here. You’re safe honey,” Steve, rumbled deep and low in the boy’s ear.

Peter sighed. “Tired,” he bitched.

“Go to sleep honey. You’ll feel better afterwards. I promise,” Steve said.

He held his breath. The kid mumbled something... then went the special kind of limp that only people who were asleep or unconscious could manage.

“Medic!” Tony shouted.

People rushed into the room.

“Don’t get off him-” an older beta in scrubs warned as she knelt next to them on the floor. “I’m not going anywhere-” Steve said grimly. “And where the fuck is all the blood _ coming _ from?” he demanded.

“His hands,” she said bluntly as she and other beta started wrapping the kid’s hands in cloth, and squeezing- applying pressure he realized.

“What the hell happened, Tony?” Bucky demanded. “What the fuck even is that thing?”

“It’s an MRI. We were checking his brain. And I don’t know- we were almost done and he just started to freak out- we shut it off, but I don’t think we were quick enough- it takes a minute to stop spinning and he was already hitting it-” Tony trailed off. “Oh god, Steve- his HANDS,” he lamented. “The inside parts weigh at least a couple of tons and he was hitting it while it was _ spinning around him _-”

“His hands are still attached,” the beta nurse said. “Which is not what I was expecting, to be honest. So it might not be as bad as you think.”

They eventually managed to get Peter onto a gurney. Steve refused to get off him, in case he woke up swinging. “Just take the fucking x-rays with me here,” he barked, plastered on top of the boy. “I’ll be fine-”

They still insisted on tossing a lead apron on him- like it even fucking mattered. He’d been frozen in ice. A little radiation wasn’t going to hurt him.

Steve didn’t get off him until they were done poking and prodding and had wheeled both of them into a private room. He slid off, wincing.

Tony, of course, was right there, and pressed a hand to Steve’s face. “Do you have a fucking shiner right now?” he demanded.

Steve touched his face. It felt a bit puffy. “Maybe,” he said. “Kid got a couple of hits in before I scruffed him.”

Bucky slouched unhappily in a chair. “We can’t keep doing this-” he growled. “This reacting crap. I don’t want another fucking doctor touching him without me or Stevie there,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but the kid clearly hates it here or _ something _-”

“I agree,” Steve said, equally unhappy. “If I was there from the start, I might have been able to reassure him before he panicked.”

Tony rubbed his face. “I know,” he said, sighing heavily. “Cho and I are going to have to put together a protocol for the staff. Like we have for Bruce,” he paused. “Does anyone know if that nurse is still alive?”

“I have no idea,” Bucky said wearily. “The kid is going to lose his mind if he thinks he hurt someone, Steve-”

Steve huffed. “I know-” he said grimly.

Thankfully, Cho walked in. “I have some good news-” she said.

Everyone sat up.

“The skin on his hands was a bit shredded, which is where all the blood was coming from. That should be fully healed in another 10 minutes or so. Also, I’ve spoken to Bruce and he’s been cleared for morphine for pain relief.”

“And the bad news?” Tony demanded.

“We won’t know if there’s damage to the nerves in his hands until he wakes up and we can do some tests,” she said. “Also he has several fractures in his fingers and a major fracture in his right wrist, a compression fracture in his left radius and ulna- which we’re going to have to set sometime in the next 10 minutes- and the hairline fracture that had been mostly healed from before is now fractured _ again _-” she shook her head. “He’s going to be in arm casts for at least a week.”

“On both arms?” Steve demanded. Cho nodded. “And his fingers.”

Bucky groaned. “Oh god, he’s going to be _ miserable _-”

Steve winced. “At least it’s not another head wound?” he offered.

Tony glared at him. “And just for that, you’re first up for ass-wiping duty,” he snarled.

Steve blinked. “What?”

“He won’t be able to use his HANDS Steve-” Tony snarled. “_ Someone _is going to have to help him-”

“I think we can manage something,” Cho said, amused. “It’s not quite that dire yet. Also we have nurses for that if it comes to it.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. The bits that he’d seen of Peter when Tony had hosed him down had been more than he’d ever wanted to see, to be honest- the poor kid.

“How’s the nurse?” Bucky demanded. “Is he still breathing?”

“He has fractured ribs and partially fractured back from where he hit the wall. But he’ll live- and it doesn’t look like he’s paralyzed.”

Everyone breathed another sigh of relief.

“Thank god for small miracles,” Bucky said.

Steve rubbed his face and winced as he hit a sore spot where he would no doubt soon sport a bruise. That was great. The last thing any of them needed was another death on their conscience.

But- just... what the fuck were they going to do with this kid when they went back on call?

He had no idea.


	33. Humpday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Another chapter going live at nearly 4am. I'm sick so I stayed home from work and wrote and slept and well... generally slept. 
> 
> I know we’ve already gone over the days events twice now- once from Peter’s and once from Steve’s POV. But this is a major event and Tony has some things to discover/realize. So. Tony’s POV of “What Happened on Wednesday”. Next chapter will switch back to Peter’s POV. That one will be entitled: “Taking It Easy”. So- a break for Peter is incoming!

Tony was in the lab, checking the progress of a couple of projects when May called.

“May?” he answered the phone with a frown. “What’s wrong?” 

“I was on the phone with Peter and he just... hung up on me,” she said, irritated. 

Tony’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t sound like him. What happened?” 

“He asked me to bring his suit over and I said no.” 

“His suit? Like his spider suit?” Tony asked, flabbergasted. “Seriously?” 

“That’s what I thought! You didn’t tell him he could, did you?”

“No! He’s not even supposed to be looking at his phone, nevermind swinging around downtown,” Tony said firmly. “That is definitely _ not _ happening-” 

She sighed. “I told him that and he hung up on me! Tony I’m worried-” 

“No no. You’re not the only one,” he said, grimly. “He had a little meltdown this morning with Steve-”

“Oh god- was anyone hurt?” 

“Ah... not like that. He broke down crying after Steve told him no lab time.” 

“And then I told him no superheroing...” she said, sounding frustrated and resigned. 

“Look, I’m sure he’s just having a rough day. But I was going to go see him in a little bit and take him to see Cho for a checkup anyway. So if something’s wrong we’re on top of May.” 

She sighed. “Tony- I... thank you. Really.” 

“It’s not a problem May,” Tony said instantly. “We all just want him to get better so he can go home.” 

“I appreciate that. It’s just... is it weird to say I miss him already?” 

“No,” he said. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying that he often missed the boy when he wasn’t around. 

“I’m going to try to come by sometime later and drop off some clothes.” 

“That sounds great. Can you stay for dinner?” 

“No. I’ve got another shift. We’re so short handed after Sarah quit-” she cut herself off. “Anyway. Make hay while the sun shines, right?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Tony said with false cheer. Again- bite the tongue. She wouldn’t like it if you offered to pay off her mortgage, Stark.  _ Again _ . 

What was with women who had amazing kids and refusing his money? Almost everyone else he’d ever met would lick his repulsor boots for even a chance at $100 but he offered it to them for free and it was like his money was suddenly made of shit or something... 

It baffled him. 

“I’m gonna go and pack some stuff for him,” May said. 

“You do that. I’ll keep you updated if anything changes,” Tony said. 

“Bye Tony,” she said and hung up.

He sighed, and slipped his phone into his back pocket. Looks like he had a kid to talk to. 

Tony emerged from the elevator with fake nonchalance. “Hey kiddo. Heard you were having a rough day-” he said, taking note of the dent in the wall and the shattered phone as well as what looked like the remains of some tacos. 

“Go away,” Peter whined tiredly, and burrowed deeper under his blankets. 

“Your Aunt said you hung up on her,” he said. “She was worried about you.” 

Peter whined. 

Tony sat on the bed, and considered the possibilities. “Your head hurt, honey?” he asked quietly. 

The kid didn’t answer him. 

Tony sat in silence for a moment. How did you talk to teenagers again? He looked around for a safe conversation topic. On the wall, dramatic music played as a man in a white mask and red eyes hunted for a stupid omega. 

It took him a moment to place the movie. Ah. Micheal something. Myers. That was it. The man was a feral alpha- that’s why his eyes were red. Halloween, wasn’t it? 

“You watching Halloween? Never could stand that series,” he said. “Feral alphas just don’t behave like that. Micheal Myers is the least realistic serial killer ever.” 

He waited patiently. 

“You’ve seen an alpha go feral?” Peter asked quietly. 

Ding ding ding. Curiosity for the win! 

“Sure. There was this guy- Killian- he was trying to make a drug that healed people. And it worked. But- and this is the kicker- it made the alphas go feral. Red eyes and everything. They’d go on rampages and just... well. Killed a lot of people. In fact it was so potent it made even betas go a little nuts. Not as bad as the alphas, of course,” he shrugged. “Of course, the fact that they also could shoot fire from their hands made them extra deadly, but... I gotta be honest here, I found the red eyes a hell of a lot scarier than the fire thing.” 

He held back a shiver at the memory. He’d met Harley then. God that kid had been nothing but surprises-

“They shot fire from their hands?” Peter asked skeptically, drawing Tony back to the present. 

“They weren’t very good at it and it killed them in the process, but they were feral so they didn’t exactly care. Also their eyes didn’t glow like that-” Tony gestured at the movie, which showed glowing red eyes peering through slats in a closet door while a frightened Jamie Lee Curtis huddled in said closet. 

“They were just... red. Entirely red. No white visible or anything. Very... unsettling.” 

Peter gnawed a lip. “Has Steve ever-”

“No,” Tony said firmly. “Though apparently Hydra’s tried just about everything under the sun on him. You don’t have to worry about that.” 

“I’m not-” Peter said instantly. “I just...” he sighed. 

“You wanna talk about today? Steve says you were a bit... emotional earlier.” 

Peter figited, and huffed. 

“Kid?” 

“He thinks I’m going to try to get drunk or something,” Peter said eventually, his voice full of resentment. 

“What?!” What the fuck was kid even talking about? 

Peter huffed again. “I wouldn’t!” he protested. 

“Hang on. I think I’ve lost the plot here. Why don’t we backtrack a bit. You went into the kitchen and....” Tony prompted. 

Peter grumbled. “They were making spaghetti. But the sauce needed some wine. I asked them where they kept the red- and he said that there’s no alcohol in the tower.” 

Tony considered this. “And?” he asked eventually. 

Peter glared at him through a gap in his blankets. “He  _ lied _ to me Tony. Right to my face. Like I’m  _ stupid _ . I mean- I get it. Ned’s parents keep it locked up, but he  _ lied _ to me- like I can’t be trusted with even knowing where stupid red wine is-” 

Tony frowned at him. “What?” he asked, confused. 

Peter huffed. “I’ve seen it around. I know there’s like an entire case of whiskey in the Mark 5 cradle. So don’t tell  _ me _ there’s no freakin red wine for a stupid sauce-” he bitched. “And there’s that foreign stuff in the ceiling of the lab- why you keep it in the ceiling I have no idea. But I haven’t even touched it!” 

Tony stopped breathing, and desperately tried to remember the first time Peter had been in his lab. It’d been after he’d gone sober, hadn’t it? Right? 

Which meant that at this very moment- _there was booze in his workshop_. _The team had missed some when they’d cleared him out. _

Why hadn’t he found it already? He would have sworn he’d torn his workshop apart at least twice hoping that they’d missed some- 

“Tony?” Peter asked, concerned. “You know... I wouldn’t drink it, right? I’m not old enough-  _ I know- _ ” 

He gave himself a shake, forcing himself back to the present. Peter and his problems. Right. Not the crate of whiskey that was waiting for him...

He made a snap decision. 

“No. I know, Peter,” Tony said. “But ah... I gotta ask you not to mention the... the ah... booze to Steve. He... he doesn’t like it,” he said, and all but held his breath. 

_ Come on... buy it kid. Buy it...  _

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t tell Steve.” 

Tony relaxed, then went rigid again. “Don’t tell Bucky either. He’ll tattle. He can’t keep anything-” 

“I won’t tell,” Peter whined. “I can keep a secret-” he protested. 

Tony gave him a Look. The kid was worse at keeping secrets than a gossip columnist. 

“I CAN!” 

“Good. So what happened to your phone?” he asked, eying the dent in the wall. “I gather you didn’t actually hang up on your Aunt.” 

The kid squirmed under his blanket and muttered something. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t speak muffled blanket. You’re going to have to speak up kiddo.” 

“Accident,” Peter said, grudgingly.

Tony considered this for a moment. “So... you were talking to your Aunt... and it just... slipped right out of your hands?” 

“Yes,” he said sullenly. 

“And then it grew wings and committed suicide against a wall?” Tony continued skeptically. “Because I gotta say Pete, not even my phones can do that.” 

Peter sniffed miserably. “She’s going to be  _ so mad _ ,” he said forlornly. “She got me that phone for Christmas.” 

“So... just to be clear, you did throw it-”

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to!” Peter protested. “I didn’t! I just...” he made a noise of frustration. 

Tony sat there for a moment. He sighed deeply. 

“I’ll tell you what. You and me are going to go down to see Cho-” 

Peter groaned. Tony ignored him and just talked louder, “And then- THEN we’ll see if I have a spare StarkPhone laying around that you can have.” 

Peter emerged from his blankets. “I... I can have a new StarkPhone?” he asked incredulously. 

“Hey! He lives!” Tony snarked. “And yes- you can. IF-” Tony glared at him. “IF you go with me to see Cho with no bitching, AND if you promise to keep your mouth shut about the whole... mark 5 thing.” 

It wasn’t bribery if it also included a doctor visit, right? 

Peter pouted and examined the floor. “Can I bi-” 

Tony gave him a Look.

“I mean- complain when it’s over?” he asked. 

“No.” 

Peter heaved a sigh. “Fine,” he said, grumpy. 

Cho decided to give Peter another MRI. 

“You can stay in the room with him if you want,” she offered while an attending nurse got Peter settled in the machine. 

Tony eyed it. He knew, basically how it worked. Spinning magnets that were stupidly huge. 

But what effect would it have on the bab-

He cut the thought off. Peter would be fine by himself. 

“I’ll go into the control room with you,” he said. “I want to see how you’ve got the computers set up,” he lied. 

In the control room he watched as the man shouted something. 

Peter gave a thumbs up. 

“That means we’re good to go,” Cho said. 

They started. The little table slid into the machine, taking Peter with it. 

“Remember- stay still Peter,” Cho said into a microphone. 

Peter gave another thumbs up. 

After a small eternity, the machine started up. 

“His pulse rate is going up,” Tony noted. 

“It’s probably the noise,” Cho said. 

“You’re fine, kid. Keep it up and that phone is yours,” Tony said into the mic.

“Peter- I want you to slow down your breathing a bit,” Cho said. “Can you inhale, count to 10, then exhale for me?” 

Tony watched Peter’s pulse fluctuate. _ Come on kid. 2 more minutes...  _

“Almost done, Pete,” Tony said. 

In the room, the man moved closer to the machine, and leaned down over the opening, checking on Peter. 

Tony looked away to check the monitors displaying the kid’s vitals again. Only for a moment. Half a second, really. Maybe less than that. He would swear it in a court of law. 

The numbers jumped. 

Tony blinked. Opened his mouth to say something to Cho. And everything went straight to hell. 

********

Tony sat slumped in a chair. A team of doctors were putting Peter’s arms in casts. An IV drip of morphine going into one of his legs kept him asleep and pain free. Steve and Bucky watched them quietly. Too quietly. If the doctors noticed the extra close scrutiny they thankfully didn’t mention it. 

Tony pressed a button on his StarkPad. The footage from the MRI room rewound itself and restarted. He had half an eye on it, and half an eye on the kids vitals, which was displayed right next to the footage. They’d jumped a bit when the machine had spun up, but that was expected- it was loud as fuck in there apparently. 

He watched. The kid was freaking out but fine... then the man in scrubs moved from where he’d been leaning against a wall next to an emergency stop button. Stood over Peter. 

Tony froze the footage, eyes on the vitals. The kid’s heart rate had shot up there. 

He unfroze it. The man leaned down, checking on Peter. 

Tony frowned, squinting at the footage. The loudness of the machines meant it was useless to record sound so it wasn’t even enabled. But it looked like he was saying something to him? 

Peter’s vitals skyrocketed. 

The man moved- and then a split second later was kicked away. 

Tony paused it. Something had happened. Right there. But what? 

He replayed it at half-speed. 

Again at quarter speed. 

And there- right.... THERE. He froze the footage. 

Tony physically turned the tablet, trying to get a better look- and yes- it looked like he’d reached in and touched Peter- 

Tony stared at a wall for a moment, then face palmed. Of course. It was obvious NOW. The way he’d been kicked clear across the room just like Steve had- the fucking idiot had touched Peter’s belly. 

“Tony?” Steve asked, concerned. 

“The fucker touched his stomach,” Tony growled. 

“What?” Steve asked, confused and alarmed.

“There was a nurse in the MRI room with Peter. To help watch the procedure. He touched Peter while he was in the machine,” Tony said grimly. He was practically vibrating with frustration. 

“Are you serious?” Bucky asked incredulously. 

“That’s what it looks like from the security footage. Right before he lost it, Peter kicked him right across the room, just like he did with you Steve-” 

“Jesus Christ...” Steve said, and rubbed his face. 

“I’m going to talk to Cho,” Tony said, determined. “This can’t happen again.” 

“Fuck right it’s not happenin’ again,” Bucky growled. 

“You two stay here. Watch him?” 

“We’ll guard him,” Steve said seriously. 

Cho wasn’t hard to track down. She was doing paperwork in her office. Tony closed the door behind him. 

“Tony!” she looked up, surprised, “What can I do for you?” 

“Your orderly touched Peter while he was mid-freakout,” Tony said bluntly. “I think it’s what triggered the melt-down.” 

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?” 

“I’ve watched the security footage,” Tony said grimly. “I think it would be best if we came up with some rules for the staff when it comes to Peter.” 

She nodded. “I agree. But before we go overboard, I think we should talk to Raoul first, and get his side.” 

“Raoul?”

“The orderly that got kicked into a wall. It’s possible that something else happened-” 

Tony opened his mouth to protest.

“In addition to what you saw,” she said. 

Tony huffed. “Fine.” 

“I’ll have someone talk to him-” 

“I want to talk to him-” he growled. 

“Which is exactly why you won’t,” Cho said firmly. “If you want honesty you don’t scare people. Jumping all over him will just make him clam up.” 

“Fine. But I want to watch.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said demurely. 

What “she could do” turned out to be exactly nothing. “It was against HR policy,” and “violated privacy” and he tuned out the HR rep after that. He stormed off to his labs, and simply had Jarvis redirect the security feed to one of his screens. 

“How are you feeling, Mr. Rodriguez?” a man with a clipboard asked. 

“Like I just got kicked into a wall,” Raoul said bitterly. “Did you know that kid fractured my fucking spine?” he demanded. 

“I’m here about that, actually. I want to know what happened,” the man said calmly. 

“He kicked me into a wall!” Raoul protested. 

“Let’s start from the beginning,” mystery man said patiently. “You got the patient situated in the machine okay?” 

“Sure.”

“Was he nervous?” 

“A little. But almost everyone’s nervous when they get an MRI. The machine isn’t exactly friendly looking.” 

“So he’s in the machine. What happens next?” 

“He started to freak out a little. I went and talked to him and he kicked me across the room.” 

“What did you say?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“What did you say to him?” 

The man huffed. “He started moving, so I told him to be still.” 

“How did you word it?” 

The man shrugged, then regretted it, judging from his wince. “Be still.” 

“And you said it just like that?” 

“Well. I mean-” the man trailed off. 

“Mr. Rodriguez?” ‘

“So... I might have used a bit of an alpha command.” 

“Mr. Rodriguez, that is not recommended-” 

“The kid’s an alpha. Who cares? It’s not like it would  _ make _ him do anything,” Raoul complained. “I was just getting his attention.” 

“And you know he’s an alpha because...” 

“The kid has a scent. And he’s an avenger. They’re all alphas, aren’t they?” Raoul said. “I know it’s not exactly up to regs, but it’s not like it hurts anything. A little alpha voice makes it easier for everyone.” 

The man made notes on his clipboard. “The security footage appears to show you touching him. Is that true?” 

Raoul frowned. “Sure. I was just trying to reassure him. A pat on the chest does wonders, you know? Brings them back down to earth.” 

Tony turned off the monitor and promptly flipped over a table. The circuit boards and tools on it bounced off in all directions on the floor. 

He sank down next to it, hands pressed into his face.  _ Jesus Christ.  _ How the fuck could he protect Peter when his medical staff consisted of IDIOTS? Seriously? Using an alpha voice to “get his attention”? 

_ Jesus.  _

Sure, it was true. An alpha command would be shrugged off by most mature alphas. It worked best on omegas. You had a 50/50 shot of betas obeying it if they weren’t paying attention or if you caught them off guard. 

But it didn’t stop make using it  _ rude as fuck. _

It was _ supposed _ to be used between a consenting couple during Heat to help the omega do things like eat and drink. Or in an emergency to keep the omega from hurting themselves. 

But wiggling during an MRI was NOT an emergency. No wonder the kid had freaked out. Getting an alpha command when you weren’t expecting it was just the  _ worst _ ... There was a reason why in the movies it was always the hallmark of an abusive Alpha- watching yourself from the outside as you obeyed a command was just... 

Tony shuddered, and rubbed his bond mark. Thankfully alpha commands didn’t work over speakers, or else his Iron Man career would have been a lot shorter. At least, now that he was mated he didn’t have to worry about strange alphas ordering him around. The only Commands he would be following now would be Steve’s. 

And before that? Well... there was a reason he’d been known for wearing earplugs to things like red carpets.  _ You can’t follow an alpha command you can’t hear...  _

Well. This whole nonsense was going to stop. There would be Rules from here on out, god damn it... 

“Sir, Peter is awake,” Jarvis said from the ceiling. 

Tony practically skidded to the elevator. 

He slowed down before he hit the door to the private room. No need to let the kid know he’d fast walked- okay okay... ran- across the MedBay. 

“Hey kiddo,” he said. Bucky moved to make room for him next to Peter’s bed. 

“T’ny?” Peter slurred. 

“Hey. I’m here. Steve’s here too,” Tony said, and ran fingers through Peter’s hair. 

“What...” the kid frowned and looked down at himself- or at least tried to. “What... “ 

“Shh... they got you on the good stuff kiddo,” Tony said softly. “It’s just the morphine helping you not hurt honey.” 

“Morph’e?” 

“Yep. Bruce brought out the big guns today,” Tony said. 

“You should sleep, Peter. You’ll heal faster,” Steve said gently. 

Peter hummed and went quiet. After a moment his breathing evened out. 

“Wish I went to sleep that easy,” Bucky snarked. 

“Don’t we all,” Steve said softly. “Any news, Tony?” 

Tony sighed. “I just watched the interview with the orderly. Not only did he touch him, he tried to use an alpha command on him- he said he thought he was an alpha.” 

Steve looked furious. “Are you serious?” he demanded, whisper-shouting. 

“I KNOW,” Tony whispered back. “I’m just as angry about it as you are. I’m going to talk to Cho. We’re going to make some new rules for the MedBay.”  “I want a part in that,” Steve said firmly. 

Tony nodded. “I thought you might.” 

“When do we start?” Steve asked. 

“Right after I call May,” Tony said warily. 

The alphas winced. 

“Yeah... I’m not looking forward to it either,” he said. 

“Good luck,” Bucky said. 

Tony nodded, and pulled out his phone before stepping out of the room. 

He dialed. 

God, this was going to suck... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is absolutely no risk to pregnant people from an MRI. I looked it up. You can get an MRI no problem when you’re pregnant - even in the first trimester. But Tony didn’t know that, and decided to play it safe- plus he’d literally be watching from the other side of a glass window. What could possibly go wrong? *Cue ominous music*


	34. Trying To Take It Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets a break. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags:  
Puking, hurt/comfort, cuddling

It was hard waking up. His head felt... fuzzy. He tried to move his arm to itch his nose, and found both of them to be unexpectedly heavy.

_ Had he been hit by a bus again? _ Oh god, Tony was going to kill him... he needed to get back home-

He grunted and tried to sit up.

“Woah there cowboy. Relax,” someone said next to him.

Peter managed to crack open an eye. “Darci?” he slurred.

“Yep. Just chill dude.”

“Wha- what happen?” he managed.

“You lost a fight with an MRI machine- which I _ totally _ don’t blame you for. Those things are fucking loud.”

An MRI machine? Had one gone rogue sailor moon style? He couldn’t remember.

He shifted.

“What did I say about moving? Just chill dude! Banner has you on the good stuff. Don’t make me call in someone to sit on you. Because I totally will.”

He grunted, unhappy.

“I’m gonna touch your hair, okay?” she said. “Tony said you like that.”

There was a sudden strong scent of peaches and cream, and fingers went through his hair.

He sighed. That did feel nice. He found himself relaxing.

“That better, honey?” she asked, and gently scritched his scalp with her nails.

_ Holy shit... _

He melted into the bed and purred a bit.

“There we go,” Darcy said, sounding smug. “That’s it. Just float away. You’re safe. Go back to sleep.”

He drifted.

The next time he woke up, he felt considerably less fuzzy- he yawned and stretched- and nearly knocked himself out with something hard that was on his right arm. He peered sleepily at it-

Holy shit his arm was in a cast. It was Iron Man red and went all the way from his elbow to the tips of his fingers. Only his thumb was free.

WTF.

He checked the rest of himself. His left arm was also in cast, again in red. On that one his index finger and thumb were free. He wiggled them, and found that it made his hand ache a bit.

His legs, thankfully, were free of casts.

What the hell had happened? He tried to remember... Darcy said something about an MRI machine?

He looked around the room and found Tony slumped in a nearby chair.

“Tony?” he asked quietly. It looked like they were in the MedBay...

The man snored slightly.

Peter got out of bed and padded over to watch the older omega. He debated on waking him. He did kinda need to pee but... he had a feeling that Tony would freak out if he woke up and found Peter missing.

He nudged him in the shoulder. “Tony?”

The man snorted awake all at once and nearly slid out of the chair.

Peter held back a snigger. The man looked utterly ridiculous with his hair all messed up and his clothes wrinkled like that.

“I’m up I’m up!” Tony barked, struggling to right himself, and get his bearings. “Peter- what- you shouldn’t be out of bed-” he protested.

Peter shrugged. “I’m okay,” he said. “Just... what happened?” he asked, holding up a now useless arm in question.

Tony took a breath. “You had a panic attack while we were getting an MRI scan of your head,” he said. “You ah... tried to punch your way out. It didn’t go so well.”

Peter frowned. “It didn’t?” What the hell? Wasn’t he stronger than that?

“Peter... that MRI machine weighs over 5 tons. And it was spinning. You’re lucky you didn’t lose your hands,” Tony said, exasperated.

“Oh,” Peter eyed the casts with some new appreciation. “How bad is it?”

“You’ll be out of them in about a week,” Tony said.

“A week?!” Peter protested. “I can’t have... fucking lobster hands for a week!”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Lobster hands?”

Peter flushed, held up his right hand, and waggled his thumb back and forth like a lobster claw- which was pretty much all he could do at the moment.

Tony snorted on a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe red wasn’t the best choice,” he said, amused.

“Tony...” Peter whined. “What am I going to do? How am I going to take a shower?”

“Like you normally do. They’re waterproof.”

Peter blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You could even go swimming if you wanted to.”

Well, that didn’t seem so bad.

“Come on- let’s go see Cho for a final check in so we can blow this joint,” Tony said getting up and walking out of the room.

Peter quickly fell into step behind him and followed him through the MedBay. Was it his imagination or did people look like they were giving them a wide berth?

Cho gave him a quick once over and double checked the color of his barely visible finger tips.

“Any numbness? Tingling?” she asked.

“No-” Peter said, trying to figure out what Tony was looking at on his phone.

She jabbed a finger with something hard and sharpish. Peter squeaked and ripped his hand away.

“What was that for?” he demanded.

“I’m checking your nerves. Come on- give it back-”

Peter glowered at her and grudgingly returned his arm. “You don’t have to do it so HA-rd-” he protested, wincing as she jabbed another finger with some sort of metal stylus.

“It’s standard. Relax.”

“How is it?” Tony demanded, once she’d jabbed every one of his fingers.

“Good. I was worried there for a minute- some of his fingers- well...” she trailed off and pinned Peter with a firm look. “Next time you pick a fight with something that weighs more than a ton, make sure you use a closed fist, alright? Or next time you might actually lose one,” she scolded.

Peter stared at his casts in horror. “I almost lost my fingers?”

“If you didn’t have advanced healing you would still be recovering from hand surgery,” she said. “And you might have to do some exercises to get back to where you were mobility wise once the cast comes off. But we’ll see in a week.”

Peter winced.

“How’s your pain?”

“My hands ache,” Peter said.

“Let me know if it gets to be too much. We’ll see what we can do. In the meantime, try to keep them elevated. And before I forget, I want to get another blood sample in a couple of days.”

“Why?” Tony asked.

“I want to keep an eye on his hormone levels. Just want to play it safe.”

Peter groaned. “Are you sure you’re not like, a secret vampire?” he asked.

She grinned. “If I told you, Parker- it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?”

Tony snorted. “Come on. Stop insulting your doctor and let's get you set up on the couch. Thank you Cho,” he said, and pulled Peter out of the office.

“See you in a couple of days!”

“A couch? Can’t I go to my room?” Peter whined as they went into the elevator.

“Nope. I want you where I can stare at you properly,” Tony said. “Make sure you don’t stop breathing or something on me.”

Peter sighed. “Can I at least watch Star Wars?”

“Nothing released after 2000,” Tony said.

“But- that’s like... almost all of them!” Peter protested.

“Kid... I am not watching another stupid car death race thing with bad CGI again. I can’t take it. Originals or nothing,” Tony said.

Peter grumbled, but allowed himself to be led to the main couch on the common floor. It was an overstuffed monstrosity made of leather and possibly reinforced steel. It was stupidly comfortable.

Peter sat on the thing, while Tony puttered about, pulling out blankets and pillows from closets and shoving them on Peter’s lap.

“Tony! I won’t be able to see the screen!” he protested, as the pile kept getting larger and larger.

Tony considered the pile. “Need more pillows,” he muttered, and pulled some from another closet.

“Tony- I literally have like 10 pillows- okay now like 13. What am I supposed to do with them?” Peter protested, growing exasperated as Tony threw yet more pillows at him.

“No such thing as too many pillows,” Tony said seriously. “And some of those are for me.”

“What on earth do you do with 7 pillows and like 4 blankets?”

Tony frowned at him. “You make a nest, kid,” he said gently. “We’re going to be here a while. Might as well make it nice.”

A nest? He stared at the pillows. Then the couch. The couch was already soft... right?

“Here. Watch,” Tony said, and claimed several pillows from the pile. He made the end of the couch recline, and carefully wadded up a blanket and put it right above where his ass would go if he sat in the chair. “That is for your back. These sofas were built for tall people and the back support is not made for us at all-” Tony complained, adjusting the blanket a couple of times to his liking. He shoved a pillow into the corner next to the armrest. “So that I can sit sideways without the armrest digging into me-”

Peter watched as Tony carefully built his nest, using strategically placed pillows and blankets. Tony would put something here, something there, tug a little on that, and then he stepped back and suddenly- BAM. A nest just... appeared.

It was like watching a master painter on youtube, spraying apparently randomly on a piece of paper then doing a few tricks with newspaper and a paint can lid and suddenly there was a galaxy and planets.

When he was done, he had only two pillows and a blanket left. “To have in my lap to hold my tablet,” he explained. “And to cover my feet to keep them from getting cold.”

“How did you do that?” Peter complained, awed.

“Practice and Natasha,” Tony said calmly. “I’ll help you get started. Do you have any stuffed animals you want from your room?”

Peter sputtered. “I’m not a BABY Tony-”

“I have stuffed animals,” Tony said evenly. “They’re nice for when Steve’s off running or being stupid somewhere without me.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “You... _ you _ have stuffed animals?” he whispered.

“Sure. Jarvis?”

“Yes sir?”

“Did you ever figure out where my big bear came from?” Tony asked as he placed pillows on Peter’s side of the couch.

“I did sir,” Jarvis said neutrally.

“Good. I want like, three more of them,” he said.

“Ordering now,” Jarvis said.

“What are you going to do with 4 big bears?” Peter asked, both scandalized and confused.

“Give one to you. And replace the one I have- it’s getting a bit ratty.”

Peter frowned. “You’d still have an extra bear.”

“Who says you can only cuddle bears one a time?” Tony said. “Plus I can put one of Steve’s shirts on it,” he said triumphantly. “See how the bastard likes _ that _ when he comes back from his stupid 3 am run-” he grumped.

“Always wakes me up when he leaves-” he bitched quietly. “Take it from me kid- when you get yourself an alpha-” he paused, “When you’re _ 30 _ and you finally get yourself an alpha,” he corrected himself, “Make sure the first thing you ask them is ‘what time do you get up in the morning?’ It’ll save you so much trouble in the long run.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you don’t want him to get up so early?” Peter asked, nose wrinkling.

Tony froze for a second. “Because...” he sighed. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” he said tiredly. “But you have to accept your alpha for who they are. Hydra raids, 3 am runs and laundry hampers and all.”

More nose scrunching. “Laundry hampers?”

“He made me get one. Don’t know why- the floor has never complained once that I know of about holding my clothes- we have _ maids _ for Christ’s sake-” Tony muttered, as he fluffed a pillow. “Okay. Try it now kid.”

Peter skeptically climbed into the nest, and found it was pretty nice.

But...

Tony watched him, amused. “It’s not right, is it?”

Peter flushed.

“Don’t worry kid. No two omegas nest the same,” he said, and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Fix it how you want.”

It took 20 minutes of rearranging pillows, fluffing, and wadding and unwadding of blankets.

Tony was no help. “Remember- you need to keep your arms elevated-” he’d say. Or “I think the blue blanket is softer than the red one-” and Peter would have to start all over again.

By the third comment, he was fairly sure Tony was doing it on purpose, and Peter growled at bit at him when he opened his mouth to say something else. It wasn’t a big growl. But it was full of exasperated unhappiness.

Thankfully, Tony took the hint. “I wasn’t going to say anything!” he protested just a bit too hard, clearly holding back a grin. “Just wanted to know if we could start the movie yet-”

Peter grumbled as he settled in. Nesting was _ exhausting. _“Fine,” he said grumpily.

By the time Luke was cleaning up the droids and bitching about power converters, both omegas were asleep.

Peter woke up when the Death Star exploded. Han’s whooping scream of delight kicked him right out of dreamland.

It took him a moment to pinpoint where he was. Right. Couch. Nest. Tony snoring on the other end of the couch, StarkPad halfway out of his hands on the way to the floor.

Peter’s stomach rumbled, and he nearly gave himself a black eye when he went to rub his face (he forgot about his casts) so it took three tries before he was awake enough to figure out what finger he could use to safely scratch his own nose.

He wandered into the kitchen and eyed the fridge- more specifically, the fridge’s handle. He could do that. Right? He had thumbs free. It opened with little fuss, giving him a boost of confidence. Now for some juice...

The juice bottles didn’t have handles on them, and seemed to be made mostly of rounded plastic that someone had either coated with PAM or designed in hell specifically to torment him. He finally managed to manhandle a half full one out of the fridge, only to discover that he needed to get the cap off.

He considered the problem. Right. Just think logically, Parker. He could do this. He got so that he held it against his body with his right arm. And now use his free fingers on his left hand to get a grip on the lid.

He was doing it! Now just twist his fingers...

It was like knives being stabbed into his hand. He nearly dropped the damn thing, and took a moment to breathe.

What the hell?

He tried again. But more carefully this time.

It was impossible. The pressure he needed to exert on the lid to grip it tightly enough to loosen it with just two fingers was also apparently putting strain on his hand bones. The harder he pinched, the more his hand screamed.

He gave up and angrily manhandled the cursed jug back into the fridge.

His stomach protested again.

Okay. No juice. But there were leftovers- what looked like spaghetti. It was in a gigantic glass bowl on a higher shelf. And more importantly, there was no lid. Just a thin layer of plastic wrap between him and glory.

He eyed it. He could reach it no problem but... he eyed the glass, and tried to remember if pyrex was shatter resistant.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have to find out the hard way.

He carefully removed it from the fridge and put it on the counter top, his fingers and hands bitching at the pressure the whole way.

He eyed the microwave above the stove and wondered if it would be worth the trouble. He might have to get a step stool to get the angle right...

Fuck it. Cold spaghetti couldn’t be that bad- right?

He found a fork. It took some experimentation to figure out how to hold it with his non-dominant thumb and forefinger. But he managed.

He at least managed to get the Saran wrap off with little difficulty.

Right. Fork. Spaghetti. Go time.

After about 2 minutes he was whining with frustration. He was lucky he was holding the fucking fork- he couldn’t TWIRL the damn thing like he usually did even if his life depended on it, and whatever sadistic freak had made the pasta didn’t break the noodles in half before they cooked them. So he’d get a promising forkful, only to have to have it slide off before he could get it in his mouth.

He scowled at the bowl. Had an idea.

He stabbed the pasta, burying the fork to the hilt. He clamped the fork with his right thumb against the cast, and used his left hand to spin the bowl. After several spins he leveraged the fork out with a grunt.

AHA!

The fork was now basically a club made of spaghetti, but most importantly he could take bites off of it now. So he did. Who cared that half of it slid off and a third of it was coating his face?

Whatever. He was eating. He was happy. He was somewhere on his fifth “club” when:

“What the FUCK are you doing?” the voice sounded horrified and impressed.

Peter looked up at Clint. Stared back at his fork. “I’m eating?” he said, as if it was obvious.

“You look like a lion after a kill on PBS. What the hell is up with the casts?” Clint asked, leaning against a countertop.

Peter looked at them like he’d never seen them before. “Oh. Broke my arms on an MRI machine,” he said. “And my fingers too.”

“What- when did _ that _ happen?” Clint sputtered.

“Um... this morning I think?” Peter said uncertainly. “I don’t remember. They had me on morphine for a while.”

Clint stared at him. Stared at the fork.

“That spaghetti is cold, isn’t it?” he said.

Peter flushed, then scowled. “I... I can’t get it into the microwave, okay?” he whined.

Clint sighed, and reached for the bowl-

Peter snarled viciously, showing teeth. He hugged the bowl to his chest, and turned bodily away from Clint. Like the bowl was a baby he was protecting from wolves or something.

They both froze.

“Do you want me to heat it up for you?” Clint asked, his voice painfully neutral.

Peter whined and deflated. “I’m s-sorry,” Peter stammered, staring at the counter. “I... I don’t know why I did that-”

“It’s my fault kid. You’re hurt and hungry. I shouldn’t have just reached for it,” Clint said. “You want me to heat it up for you?”

Peter considered, nodded, and wordlessly slid the bowl over to the beta. The man took it, showing no sign that Peter had clearly been seconds away from- well... something. And put it in the microwave.

“You need anything else?” Clint asked.

“Can... can I have juice?” Peter asked quietly, feeling ashamed. “Please? I.. I can’t get the lid off myself.”

“Sure,” he said, and got a juice jug easily out of the fridge.

Peter caught himself staring at the man in outright naked jealousy and stared at the counter instead. Stupid people with stupid functioning hands...

A minute later there was a small thud as Clint put a large plastic cup on the table. It was full of juice. And there was a neon pink bendy straw.

The straw was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Then, as if the man wasn’t a saint already, he put a steaming bowl of spaghetti in front of him with a large spoon.

“I cut it up for you-” he said.

Peter sniffed, and couldn’t hold back the tears that leaked out of his eyes.

“Peter?” Clint asked, concerned.

“You... you’re so _ nice _-” Peter sniffed, “And I snarled at you-” he said, on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry-”

Clint’s eyes got wide. “Hey- it’s alright. You’re tired and hurt and hungry-”

“But you’re so... _ nice _ and everyone- everyone is such a... a... dick to you- and I’m _ sorry _-” and now the tears came.

Clint’s eyes got even wider. “Hey- hey- it’s fine. I’m a big boy. Plus I’m the head Beta. The shit rolls downhill, ya know? I knew that when I signed up.” He snagged a stool and sat on it, so that he was level with Peter’s eye level and rubbed his back. “It’s alright.”

“But... Tony kicks you and...”

“Hey. Listen to me,” Clint got a finger under Peter’s chin and got him to look him in the eyes, his face unusually serious. “He doesn’t do it to hurt me. He gets it from the boys, and they’re rough even for alphas with each other. I think it’s the serum. That and they’re so used to smacking each other around like brothers they don’t think sometimes. But they don't do it to punish me. Or hurt me on purpose. And trust me, I know the difference between roughhousing and cruelty. If I couldn’t handle it, I’d speak up. You understand? You don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

Peter nodded.

“You okay?”

Peter hiccuped miserably, but nodded again. “I... I... just... can’t stop,” he sobbed. “I’m .... s-sor... sorry,” he managed.

Clint sighed. “One of those days, huh?” he said, and rubbed Peter’s back. “Take a minute. Breathe.”

Peter tried. And after a moment, it started to work. The tears started to dry up.

“Thank... thank you,” Peter said quietly.

“No problem kid. Now eat up. I know you’re wanting to eat that whole bowl,” Clint teased.

Peter flushed, but reached for the spoon anyway, a retort ready on his lips-

There was a sharp cracking sound. But slightly muffled. Like a large twig being snapped in half.

Peter gasped as his vision went grey around the edges.

*****

“Come on, Buck,” Steve goaded, nearly out of breath. “That all you got?” He had the slightly smaller alpha pinned to the mats on the sparring floor.

Bucky growled, and elbowed Steve hard in the stomach. Steve ignored it, and pressed Bucky’s face deeper into the mats. “Come on- you’re getting sloppy old man-”

That got a snarl, and a headbutt to the face that Steve barely managed to avoid. The heel to his balls, however, he wasn’t expecting and did not dodge at all.

“Oof-” Steve rolled off the now snickering Bucky. “Cheater!” he whined.

Bucky snickered harder. “Nat would say there’s no cheating. Just winning,” he said almost conversationally, as he rolled, stuck out an elbow and tried to impale Steve’s middle with it.

Steve rolled away, and got a literal steel elbow scraping against his back for his troubles. He grunted and went for a leg- sticking a thumb into a particularly painful place in the back of the knee joint- (if Bucky was going to cheat, he would too).

“Captain Rogers,” a voice said from above. Both alphas froze. Then sighed.

“10 bucks says it’s the kid,” Bucky grumbled.

“I won’t take you up on that, because what else would it be? ” Steve said tiredly. “Yeah Jarvis?” he said louder. “Is Peter at least in one piece?”

“He is throwing up. Tony wants to take him to the medical bay. Protocol dictates-”

“Yeah. I’m coming,” Steve said.

“You sure? I could go,” Bucky said.

Steve shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Steve- the kid is sick. I get that. But you need a break too. Let the pack share some of the load, okay?”

Steve considered. “You take him tomorrow?”

Bucky nodded. “I can do that.”

“And I’ll take him back on Saturday,”

“Captain, you have the Gala on Saturday,” Jarvis said primly from the ceiling. “Sir has made it very clear that he expects you to attend.”

Steve winced as he stood up. “Shit. Forgot about that,” he complained.

“So, I’ll keep him Saturday too. And Sam’s coming back sometime today with his stuff from D.C. He should be mostly settled in by Sunday so he can take him then. We can keep rotating from there,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “That’s a good idea-”

“Captain, I have been asked to tell you to hurry. Peter is in a considerable amount of pain,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

Steve swore, wiped his face and neck down with a towel, and hurried to the elevator.

When he got off at the common floor he was greeted by the sight of Peter sitting on the floor of the kitchen, staring forlornly into a trash can being held by Clint. Tony was rubbing Peter’s back. It was obvious that the trash can was a late edition to the party, as there were some splatters on the floor and fridge that he didn’t want to think about.

“What’s happening?” Steve demanded.

Almost as if in answer, there was a sickening cracking noise of bone snapping, and Peter heaved into the trash can.

“THAT. That is what's happening,” Tony said, his voice tight. “We need to get him to Cho. Now.”

Steve winced. “Sounds like his bones are popping back into place,” he said. “Mine do that sometimes. Hurts like a bitch.”

Peter groaned in agreement.

“Come on. Lets go get you some morphine,” Steve said, and scooped Peter up. “Bring the trash can Clint.”

Clint opened his mouth- Steve could SEE the man start to say “Why can’t Tony take the trash can with puke in it-” before doing some quick mental math and deciding to not say that. Clint shut his mouth and brought the trash can.

“Jarvis, call housekeeping,” Tony said, as they headed for the elevator.

“Already notified sir, they are sending a team.”

It was a good thing they brought it the trash can. Peter puked into it again while they were walking through the MedBay to the triage nurse.

“Back already?” the nurse asked playfully. “You going for a record, Mr. Parker?”

Peter whined.

“I think he’s puking from pain. His healing factor is kicking in-”

There was another sickening cracking noise. Even the nurse flinched at it. Peter dry heaved.

“Making his bones snap back into place,” Steve finished grimly.

Within 5 minutes, they had drawn another blood sample and had Peter hooked up to the good stuff. Clint escaped with the trash can in the ensuing confusion, the bastard. Not that Steve blamed him. Clint didn’t really do well with sickness, and medical stuff in general.

Not long after that, Peter was obviously floating. Cho came in after a little bit with two X-rays, and stuck them on a light board.

“You said you think his bones are popping back together?” she asked Steve.

“I’ve had it happen.”

“_ Please _ tell me that’s what’s happening,” Tony said, desperate. He’d parked himself next to Peter’s bed and was holding one of the kid’s hands as best he could through a cast.

“As far as I can tell, Steve is right. If you look here- and here-” she pointed at some places on Peter’s fingers, “You can see where the bone has not only moved but has started to knit itself together. It’s remarkable, really. If this keeps up, we should be able to put him in some new casts that free up his fingers by as early as Sunday.”

“And his arms?” Steve asked.

Cho shook her head. “No real progress there. I’m not surprised though. The finger bones are much smaller than the arm bones when you think about it. Our real issue from here on out will be pain management. Morphine is amazing, but it also has the potential to be highly addictive.” She shook her head. “And to be honest, I am not at _ all _ happy with his stress hormone levels right now. He keeps this up, and he’ll be going into distress again.”

“What can we do?” Tony asked.

“Normally I’d prescribe Xanax, but... “ she sighed. “I’ll give him a couple of morphine patches once we’re sure this... snapping thing has stopped. It’ll control his pain and keep him stress free for a couple of days. Give his body a rest.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to make him high?”

“Just a little bit,” she said with a tight smile. Steve gave her a Look.

“I get it. I do. I don’t like it much either. But weed isn’t legal yet, or I’d give him an edible. In the meantime, this is the next best thing.”

Tony choked. “You’d give Peter a fucking edible?” he demanded.

She shrugged. “He can’t have xanax. Or just about anything else that would help him. And he’s struggling right now. So yes. I would personally give him a ‘special brownie’ if that’s what it took to keep him from going into distress again.”

“And what- _ you’re _ okay with this?” Tony demanded, turning to Steve.

Steve shrugged. “Docs used to prescribe me herbal cigarettes for my asthma when I was a kid. I’m more surprised you’re freaking out about it.”

Tony stared, clearly doing some sort of logic problem in his head. “You smoked marijuana? _ Seriously _?” he sounded like his world had just turned upside down.

“I think there were some cloves in there too,” he said thoughtfully. “Wasn’t illegal back then.”

He found Cho also staring at him like he had two heads. “What?” he asked gently.

“Sorry... I keep forgetting you were born in like... 1900,” she said. “Herbal cigarettes for asthma... now I _ know _ I’ve heard everything...” she shook her head. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on Peter,” she said, and left.

Steve knew a tactical retreat when he saw one, and he didn’t blame her. His omega looked far more upset than he should be. He knew Tony had a bit of a past-_ everyone _ knew that Tony had a bit of a past. Why was he so upset over Peter possibly taking some Mary Jane, when Steve knew for a fact Tony had done far worse drugs?

Steve dragged a chair over. “You okay, my mate?” he asked softly, drawing him into a hug and gently kissing his hair.

Tony sighed, but Steve could still tell he was unhappy.

“Can you talk to me? I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

Tony took a moment to answer, and when he did, his voice was soft. “I... I met Peter after I got sober. And... I swore I’d never let him make the same mistakes I did. I _ swore _ it, Steve. No drinking, no drugs, no hordes of women. I won’t let him... _ waste _ his potential like that- like I did.”

Steve considered. “You think you wasted your potential?” he asked quietly.

Tony’s frown deepened. “Wrong wording. Years. Should have said years. I- I don’t even remember the year my parents died, Steve. Not the day. The YEAR. Or most of the year after that. And...” he shook his head ruefully. “There’s a reason I made Jarvis. I would have starved to death without him and Rhodey-”

Steve cut him off with a kiss. “It’ll be fine, my mate. IF we do it, it won’t be at some party surrounded by strangers. He’ll have us. And Cho. And Bruce. We won’t let him fall. What’s important is that we keep him healthy.”

Tony sighed. “I don’t think his Aunt will go for it anyway.”

“So... we’ll stick to the morphine for now. Just for a couple of days,” he said.

Tony breathed deeply, steadying himself before pulling away. Steve loosened his grip and let him. “Baby?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine. Just... just hungry. I think I’m gonna go to the cafeteria and get something before they close. You want something?”

Steve considered him, and very carefully did not mention that they could have it delivered. If Tony wanted to take a walk, there was no harm in it.

“I wouldn’t say no to a sandwich,” he said.

“Right. Sandwich,” Tony said. Steve managed to snag a kiss before he left.

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m gonna get brownies?” Peter said hopefully. “I _ like _brownies.” His voice sounded spacey and dreamy. Yep. Peter was definitely high as a kite right now. Steve held in a chuckle. Peter wouldn’t understand why he was laughing.

“I’ll get you some when you feel better,” Steve said, and shifted to be closer to the boy.

“Hmmm...” Peter sounded unhappy about that, and yes- there went the pout.

There was another snapping noise- quieter than the ones before it, but still- Peter whined and shivered.

“Shhh shh...” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “You’re safe.”

Peter relaxed after a moment, but whined again. “Cold,” he complained.

“I’ve got you,” Steve said. He got a thin blanket from a cabinet, and gently laid it on Peter, taking care to make sure the boy’s bare feet were covered.

Peter huffed. “Daaad... come snuggle with me,” he whined.

Steve froze. He was fairly sure Peter had called him Dad outside of the Wal-Mart but had chalked it up to mishearing him. But there was no mistaking that. Peter had just called him ‘Dad’.

Or did he? Was he just confused? He knew that Peter’s parents were dead- had been for a while. But no-one had ever said how long ‘a while’ was. A couple of years?

“Please- I want... I want cuddles-” Peter fussed, now looking on the verge of tears.

“Hey- it’s alright. I’m here sweetheart,” Steve said. He shoved Peter over some to make room, and sat down next to him. Peter immediately climbed on top of him like a tiny starfish, and buried his face firmly into the scent glands in Steve’s neck.

Once there, he sighed.

“Happy now?” Steve asked, amused, and ran fingers though Peter’s hair. The kid was lucky he was underage and pack, otherwise Tony would skin him alive for being all over Steve like this.

He hummed. “You’re so _ warm _-” he mumbled.

More snapping. Peter gasped and whined.

“Shh....” Steve gently ran a wrist up and down Peter’s back, scent marking him.

“Daddy it _ hurts _...” Peter whined.

“I know baby. I know,” Steve said, his heart doing flips in his chest. He gently kissed Peter’s hair. “Shhh...”

But Peter didn’t settle much. He trembled.

Steve sat for a moment, holding him.

He Decided.

He gently kissed Peter’s hair again and softly began to sing. He didn’t have much of a singing voice, but he could carry a tune. He didn’t know many songs either, but he knew what to sing to comfort a distressed pup.

What to sing for _ his _ distressed pup.

“Seoithín, seo hó, mo stór é, mo leanbh,*” he sang softly. God. It’d been years since he’d spoken his mother’s gaelic. Never mind sung it. But he remembered it like it was yesterday.

“Mo sheoid gan cealg, mo chuid gan tsaoil mhór,” he sang softly into Peter’s hair, while he traced circles into Peter’s back.

Peter sighed contentedly, and melted.

So Steve sat there, stroked Peter’s hair, and sang softly to him.

Peter had just given a final sigh before settling in what Steve hoped was sleep when he heard a tray being put down. He looked up to find an astonished Tony staring at him.

“Is... that... what language is that?” Tony whispered, mouth agape.

“Gaelic.”

“What?”

“Irish. Me mother spake it,” Steve said, falling into the old brogue from his earliest childhood. He frowned, and shook his head, trying to dislodge ancient cobwebs that tangled his thoughts. “Me Ma was from Ireland. Came over on a boat. Had to learn English when she landed,” he tried again. Now he was thoroughly Brooklyn. Irish Brooklyn, but still Brooklyn.

He sighed, frustrated, and rubbed his face.

“I didn’t know you spoke irish,” Tony said.

Steve shrugged. “Know a little french and german too. Mostly rude words, but...” he smiled. “Enough to get by during the war, anyway.”

He watched as an apparently flustered Tony set up a tray so that he could eat next to them. He thoughtfully reached a hand, and ran it through Tony’s hair.

“Did you like it, mo grá?” he asked. “An labhróidh mé leat níos mó?**”

Tony shivered in his seat before piercing Steve with a Look. “Steve!” he hissed. “Peter is _ literally _ in your lap right now-” he whispered, protesting, and blushed an interesting shade of scarlet.

Steve smirked. _ Ooooh, he had just discovered something new.... _

Tony grumbled. “Just for that I’m eating your sandwich,” he muttered.

The smirk was wiped off Steve’s face in an instant. “Toony-” he protested.

“If you eat it now, you’ll get crumbs in his hair-” Tony said, moving the sandwich away from Steve’s grabby hand.

Steve sighed, but relented and leaned back on the gurney. He obviously hadn’t thought this through. He was stuck here now-

Peter started purring in his sleep.

Tony stared. “Is... is that Peter?” he asked.

Steve hummed and pressed his face into Peter’s hair, breathing deeply of his scent of cinnamon rolls. (He didn’t think he’d ever get over just how ridiculous Peter’s Scent was- but oddly enough it suited him very well.)

“Yeah,” he said.

“Lucky,” Tony muttered darkly.

Steve cracked an eye open at his omega. “Join us,” he said. “There’s room.”

Tony hesitated. Steve carefully scooted over, and patted the now empty side of the bed.

“The food will wait,” Steve said.

Tony stared at his food, clearly torn.

“Omega-” Steve rumbled.

Tony climbed in, and Steve looped an arm around him, drawing him close. Like Peter, Tony seemed to instinctively put his nose into Steve’s neck, and draped an arm over Peter.

Now this, Steve decided, was heaven. He should do this more often. He laid back and rumbled, his arms full of his omegas.

Peter’s purring increased. And after a minute, Tony joined him.

And this- this was better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The song that Steve sings is “Seoithín, Seo Hó“, or in english “Hush-a-bye Baby”. In it, the singer warns the child to close their eyes and go to sleep before the fairies come and take them away. If you want, you can hear it being sung here: https://www.joeheaney.org/en/seoithin-seo-ho/ 
> 
> ** “Did you like it, my love? Shall I talk to you some more?” 
> 
> Oof. Sorry for breaking here, but I’m only like 3/4 items into my “List” of what was supposed to be one chapter, and it’s already like 20+ pages. So I’m calling it and splitting it into two. Maybe three? We’ll have to see how it flows. 
> 
> So- join us next time, as Peter Chills the Fuck Out while Slightly High. His adventures will probably include such hits as: “These Cheetos are amazing” and “Watching SHIELD agents decipher IKEA furniture is the funniest thing ever” and “My trip to Target. This time I actually get the Doritos and all the blankets.”


	35. Enjoying The High Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s going to be... “medicated” for most of this chapter. It’s under strict doctor orders and he’s going to be under intense, direct supervision of an Avenger Chaperone pretty much 100% of the time. 
> 
> Tags:
> 
> Fluff. More fluff. Weapons Grade Fluff. I’m serious here. You and me both need a “rest” chapter and this is it. It’s just 27 pages of Peter being stupidly high and adorable. No plot here at all. Also Peter apparently turns into a cranky 3 year old when he’s high on morphine. Who knew?

Peter woke up warm. He sighed happily, and stretched- and promptly hit himself in the face with a cast. He whined with pain and irritation and curled up on himself.

“Shh...” a voice rumbled behind him, and pulled him close, leaving a heavy arm draped across his chest.

Peter sniffed. Coffee and caramel. And somewhere nearby- peaches. Bucky. Darcy. He rolled over and buried his face into the alpha’s heavily muscled chest.

“He okay?” a sleepy higher voice of an omega asked from the other side of the mountain that was Bucky.

“Smacked himself with his cast again,” Bucky said softly, running fingers through Peter’s hair.

She sighed. “Gonna tape pillows to those stupid things,” she grumbled. “That’s what... the third time tonight?”

“Hmmm,” Bucky said.

Peter pouted. “I can hear you, you know,” he grumbled directly into Bucky’s chest.

“Go to sleep little one,” Bucky said. “It’s too early to get up.”

Peter huffed, but obeyed.

The next time he woke up, it was because the sun was in his face. He grunted, moved to stretch- and a hand grabbed at his left arm, stopping it mid-motion.

“Wha-”

Bucky sighed. “You were gonna smack yourself again,” he said, voice tinged with amusement.

“I- I was not!” Peter sputtered.

Darcy poked her head into the bedroom. “He hit himself again?” she asked.

“Almost. I stopped him.”

“That’s it kid. I’m getting the bubblewrap,” she announced.

“I don’t need bubblewrap!” Peter protested, and tried to remember why the fuck he was in Bucky and Darcy’s bed.

“Come on. It’s time to change your patch anyway,” Bucky said.

Oh. Right. The doctor didn’t want him alone in case the medicine made him loopy or lightheaded. And Darcy had wanted him to sleep over for some reason. He couldn’t really remember why- just that she’d been really insistent on it when they’d picked him up from the MedBay last night. 

Whatever. 

Peter sighed and followed Bucky sleepily out of the bedroom. He went to itch his nose- only to have Bucky’s hand instantly blocking his own. “I swear to god, kid. You’re gonna give yourself a concussion,” he grumbled.

“My nose itches!” Peter protested. “I was just-”

“Going to smash yourself in the face because you forgot you had a cast on?” Bucky said, exasperated.

Peter glowered at him. “You don’t know that-” he said, angry.

Bucky snorted. “You’re almost as bad as Steve when he was little, you know that?” he groused, and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders to physically walk him into the kitchen. “I swear that punk gave me PTSD even before I hit the front line with all the crap he pulled.” He sat Peter down sideways in a kitchen chair.

“No Buck, I’m fine. Let me carry this heavy as fuck box of books down 4 flights of stairs- I only nearly died two days ago,” Bucky whined in a poor imitation of Steve, “Bucky I’m fine! I only spent like 2 hours out in the rain with the kids who caught polio. Bucky I always whimper when I walk, what do you mean my ankle looks broken?” He sighed. “Fucking punk.”

Peter stared, mouth agape at him while Darcy giggled.

“Was he always that bad?” Darcy asked as she puttered in front of the stove doing hopefully breakfast things.

“If it wasn’t one thing, it was another,” he grumbled, and dug through a box on the kitchen table. He pulled out what looked like a sticker.

“Gonna pull your shirt up now,” he said, and pulled Peter’s sleeping shirt up.

Peter hissed as Bucky carefully peeled the old sticker off.

“I know- I know...” he rumbled, and carefully put a new sticker on the opposite side of Peter’s upper back.

Peter shivered. Cho had promised the dose would be minimal for his metabolism, that he would barely feel the effect, but he swore his skin tingled under the newly applied patch. Bucky spun him in his chair and carefully examined his face, checking his pupils.

“You hurt at all? Even an ache?” he asked carefully.

“I’m okay,” Peter said.

“Because we have the nose spray too,” Bucky said. “Cho said you could use it anytime you need it,” he said seriously.

Peter shook his head. “It makes me... too floaty,” he complained. They had given him a spritz last night before bed when he’d had one last bone crack after leaving MedBay. Who the fuck knew you could get morphine in a fucking nose spray for “instant relief”?

“It’s supposed to. That’s how you know it’s working,” Bucky said. “And we can always put another patch on you if you need it. She said we could put two on if one wasn’t cutting it.”

“I’m okay,” he said. Honestly, he felt... kinda great. A bit sleepy, but he didn’t hurt anymore.

Bucky studied him intensely for a moment, then pulled a small contraption out of the box.

“Arm,” he barked.

Peter dutifully held out an arm, and Bucky carefully wrapped it around Peter’s bicep, then pressed a button. It buzzed as it inflated, taking his blood pressure. Peter grumbled and winced as it got stupidly tight for an uncomfortable number of seconds before deflating.

Bucky studied the numbers on the thing and carefully wrote them down on a little note pad, along with the time. “Not bad,” he said. “Pulse is a little high,” he said, and hummed thoughtfully. “After breakfast we’re going to go down and help supervise the SHIELD agents putting the IKEA furniture together. I do NOT want you helping, you understand? The heaviest thing I want you lifting today is that fork, got it?”

Peter nodded, already starting to feel a tiny bit floaty. “Yes alpha,” he said dutifully.

“Good boy,” Bucky said. He ruffled Peter’s hair and took the cuff off.

Darcy appeared, “Arm,” she said.

Baffled, Peter obeyed. He immediately squawked in protest as she started to wrap his cast with literal bubble wrap.

“Hush,” she said. “This is to save my furniture even more than your face. Babe- help me with the tape?”

Peter grumbled but didn’t fight them as they wrapped up his other cast too. “Are you going to make me wear a helmet too?” he asked sarcastically, scowling.

“You fall again like you did at your Aunt’s and I’ll duct tape one to your head,” Bucky said instantly.

Peter flushed. “Bucky...” he whined.

“We just want you to see your next birthday, dude. And clear the table. I’ve got pancakes incoming,” Darcy said, and headed back to the stove.

It turned out that there were no words in the english language capable of describing his happiness when Darcy came back with not one, but two full sized plates covered with food. The pancake stack looked one you’d see in a commercial- there were at least 6 of them. And there was ham, bacon, and eggs. And biscuits.

He stared at the bounty almost a little bit too long.

“You gonna eat kid?” Bucky said.

Peter sniffed. “It’s... it’s so beautiful,” he said softly.

“There’s enough for seconds if you want it,” Darcy said, trying to hide a smile and failing, as she dug into her own, much more modest plate.

Peter tried a piece of bacon and sighed. “You are the best cook ever, Darcy,” he said sincerely.

She beamed at him. “I always loved cooking for a crowd.”

Breakfast, it turned out, was a peaceful affair. Darcy ate while she read a magazine and Bucky poked at a tablet. It looked like he was answering emails.

Peter demolished the bacon, and was struggling with the pancakes when he suddenly became aware of eyes on him. He looked up, to find Bucky watching him with a frown. Before Peter could say anything, Bucky quietly nabbed a plate, and wordlessly cut up his ham for him. He followed suit with the pancakes- cutting them into neat squares. He even poured extra syrup on them.

“Thank you,” Peter said quietly, feeling a bit awed. Alphas just didn’t do that for people outside their immediate family or their mates.

“Should have done it from the start,” he said gruffly. “Don’t mention it.”

Darcy grinned and winked at him. “He likes to pretend he’s tough,” she said in a stage whisper. “But he’s the gooiest alpha I know.”

Bucky gave a small snarl, but there was no heat in it.

“We’ll keep your secret, don’t worry,” Darcy said conspiratorially, and gave him a kiss on the cheek as she got up to get something from the fridge. Bucky grumbled.

Peter managed his eggs and half of his pancakes before he started to slow down.

“You okay, kid?” Bucky asked.

“My hand hurts,” Peter said, grimacing. “I think I used it too much.”

Bucky considered him. “You want your spray?”

Peter shook his head. “I think it’ll stop in a minute,” he said.

“It’s okay Pete. I’ll wrap up the ham and the biscuits. We can have them as part of dinner,” Darcy said.

Peter sighed.

“You still hungry?” Bucky asked, watching Peter with a quiet intensity.

Peter flushed. He was, to be honest.

“I’ll make you one of Steve’s protein shakes,” Bucky said.

Peter brightened up a bit. “Can I have peanut butter?” he asked hopefully.

Bucky nodded. “You want chocolate ice cream too?”

Peter beamed at him.

“Are you sure that’s a protein shake?” Darcy asked, incredulous.

“We need a stupid amount of calories. Especially Stevie with his stupid ‘running a marathon’ everyday thing. There’s this weight gain stuff that ain’t so bad that he likes. I use it on missions sometimes. Fastest way to get close to 4,000 calories in one go.”

Darcy looked slightly sick. “That’s like 3 times what I’m supposed to have in a day!” she protested, tsking. “Wish I had a super metabolism,” she grumbled.

She’d only had two pancakes and some eggs, Peter realized.

“Do girls really eat that little?” he asked. “My Aunt May hardly eats anything-”

“It’s that or we’re walking balloons,” Darcy grumbled.

Bucky considered her, and slid two pieces of bacon off his plate and onto hers as he got up. He kissed her hair. “Have some bacon, baby. You deserve it.”

She flushed. “I’m on a diet!” she protested.

He snorted. “Jane says you’re always on a diet. I think you’re perfect just the way you are,” he rumbled, leaning down to sneak a kiss on her cheek and her neck.

Peter flushed and quickly found an interesting piece of ham to look at on his plate.

She squeaked. “Bucky! The kid!” she protested.

“Hmmm...” he snorted. “Gotta learn about mates sometime or another, baby-” there were more kissing noises.

There was a resounding smack of a magazine hitting flesh and Bucky huffed. “No! Go make the kid his calorie bomb. I’m not a cam girl.” There was a pause. “Jesus Christ, please both know and don’t know what a cam girl is,” Darcy word vomited.

Peter choked a bit. “Um...”

“Yeah. That was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” she sighed. “Change of topic time! Who’s the biggest stupidest alpha at your school?” she asked. “It’s been ages since I’ve had access to proper high school drama.”

Peter shrugged. “They’re all pretty big and stupid,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. But there has to be one who like... I dunno. Doesn’t know how to tie his shoes or something. Dish!”

Peter frowned. Now that she mentioned it... “Flash has velcro shoes,” he said. How the fuck had he not noticed it earlier?

“Ha! Knew it! There’s always one. Let me guess. Football player?”

“If he gets another concussion they’re going to pull him from the team,” he said, annoyed just thinking about Flash’s stupid dumb face.

She considered him, and he squirmed. “He make fun of you? Finds excuses to touch you?”

Peter’s gaze snapped up to her face, his mouth agape. “What- how-”

She snorted. “Knew it. It’s always the dumb ones. Stupid people will say it’s because he secretly likes you and doesn’t know how to ‘express himself’,” she said, rolling her eyes as she made the air quotes with her fingers. “Don’t ever listen to that. He’s just being a dick. If you’re lucky someone else will beat it out of him.”

Peter stared at a wall, mind blown. Flash... might like him? It both weirdly explained _ everything _ and made his skin crawl at the same time.

Peter shuddered. “Oh god, Darcy- what... he stands by my locker sometimes and just like... stares at me- holy shit-” he whined.

"Hey," she waved a hand to get his attention. "You've been ignoring him, right?'

Peter sighed. "I try."

“Keep it up. Either he’ll man up and ask you out and you laugh in his face or he’ll pine until he finds some other omega who’s into weird stalkers. You’ll be fine.”

Peter groaned. “Ugh... he’s such an _ asshole _ though,” Peter complained.

Darcy shrugged. “He’s a teenage alpha. It’s part of the description. Some of them grow out of it, thank god.”

“This Flash asshole bothering you at school Peter?” Bucky demanded, rumbling with anger.

“And here we go-” Darcy muttered, “Stand down babe. It’s just a stupid football player. Peter will live,” she said louder.

“But... he thinks I’m a Beta...” Peter said, confused. “I thought alphas didn’t go for betas-”

Darcy shrugged. “Not in fairy tales, no. But I know a couple of people who’ve managed.”

“Betas don’t understand ruts or heats,” Bucky said. “It confuses them- they don’t have the right instincts to handle it. You find yourself a nice alpha and call it a day. A whole lot less trouble that way.”

“Oh! Any cute ones got your attention?” Darcy asked, and waggled her eyebrows.

Peter could feel himself turning red as a tomato. “No,” he said quietly.

“No, as in you like someone but don’t think you have a chance, or no as in every alpha is stupid right now?”

“I mean... they’re not ALL stupid...” he offered. “But...” he shrugged.

“Ah. Don’t worry! Being picky is good! My friend, Marlene- she had a new crush almost every week. It was _ exhausting. _And she did it for years! I think the last time I sent her an email I told her the next time I hear a man’s name being mentioned, it had better be for a wedding. She stopped emailing me after that,” Darcy said, and shrugged.

“Cover your ears-” Bucky announced, and Peter immediately obeyed as the alpha fired up the blender.

Eventually the noise stopped, and Bucky put a giant thermos on the table with a straw. “Chocolate ice cream, peanut butter, and a banana,” he announced.

Peter tried it. It was good. “Hmmm...” he hummed and hugged the thermos close.

“Glad you like it, pup,” Bucky chuckled, and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Now you want me or Darcy to help you change?”

Peter hesitated. He really preferred Tony but... “Darcy,” he said.

Bucky nodded. “I’ll clean up. We’ve got like 10 minutes-”

“What’s the rush? They can play candy crush while they wait on us,” Darcy huffed. “We’re the important ones now, babe. Remember?”

Bucky huffed, but didn’t correct her.

“Come on kid. You want a shower?”

“Please?” Peter asked- he felt disgusting.

“No soap on the sticker!” Bucky called as they left.

“Got it!” she called back. “Come on. I’ve got a bikini bottom I think will fit you.”

Peter frowned. “Why would I-”

“Someone has to put soap on you kid. You could barely hold a fork. You really think you could keep a grip on a loofah right now?”

“Darcy-” Peter complained, mortified.

“Don’t freak. I’ll wear my one piece. It’ll totally not be weird, I swear. I’ve done this with Jane a couple of times. And she’s not even an omega.”

It was weird.

Darcy got changed into her swimsuit and put her hair up before she let him into the bathroom and helped him undress. After a few anxious moments, his shirt finally came off over the casts, and both he and Darcy breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re wearing a wifebeater when we’re done,” she said. “I don’t want to ruin all of your shirts.”

Peter nodded.

The pants weren’t a problem. They were sweatpants and came off easily.

The sticking point were his boxers.

She sighed. “So, we have some options here. You can take a shower in these- but I’ll probably have to help you take them off when we’re done anyway. Or you can take them off now, and you can turn around so the worst I’ll see is your ass while we put the bikini bottom on.”

She showed him what she had in mind. It was... well. Two black triangles with string ties at the side. He would swear that the napkins at the Olive Garden had more square footage of fabric than what she was holding.

Peter flushed, and went with the second option. It was better than nothing (barely) and at least wouldn’t be a soggy mess like his boxers would be. Darcy, bless her, made it quick. Boxers down, and step out and she had the bikini already ready to go- step back in, yank up, and he was decent again.

Almost.

“Leave it to a male omega to have hips almost as big as mine-” she complained good naturedly as she redid the ties to keep them from falling off him. She didn’t have to take them in far.

She stepped back and raised an eyebrow. “Damn dude. I think I might let you keep these,” she said. “They make your ass look _ amazing _.”

“Wait- what?” Peter flushed and instinctively checked himself in the mirror. He spun a bit- and .... huh. Had his ass always been that... big? Or was it the bikini? The way it was cut, it artfully covered his buttcrack but little else. It left a lot of his back-end real estate exposed. He was not entirely sure how he felt about it.

_ It would certainly leave an interesting tan line... _

“Don’t you get a wedgie in these?” he complained, twisting to and fro to examine his butt in the mirror.

“All the time. It’s the price of beauty,” she said. “You can keep them, they look better on you than they do me. But we gots places to go. So check yourself out later.”

Peter flushed even more, but got into the shower. Fortunately, there was a stone bench built in. He sat on it while Darcy scrubbed him down like a doll. He at least liked the bit where she washed his hair.

“When’s the last time you got a decent haircut, dude?” Darcy asked as she scrubbed his scalp.

“Hmm... May usually does it,” he said.

“Your Aunt?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s going to change,” Darcy said. “You have some serious curls here man. You can’t treat it like straight hair. Please tell me you use a conditioner on it?”

“Um... Aunt May buys me this two in one stuff?” he offered.

“Blasphemy,” she spat. “Tomorrow you and I are going to have a serious hair and skin care day. Masks and everything. I’ll drag Jane out of her lab. We can suntan for a bit on the roof next to the pool and pretend we’re stupid rich.”

“But it’s April-” Peter protested.

“It’s late April, and it’s supposed to be stupid warm. Don’t you want to be a rich bitch for at least an afternoon? We can get it catered and everything.”

Peter hesitated. “Do you think Nat and Tony would want to come?”

Darcy considered. “Nat would be down, I’m sure. Tony- I dunno. We can ask. Close your eyes. I’m gonna hose you down.”

He squawked when she doused him. She wasn’t kidding about the hose part. There was a detachable sprayer head and she really let him have it for a second.

“Whoops... hang on. Sorry kid.”

He sputtered. “Are you trying to drown me?” he demanded.

“Sorry! I forgot I left it on flood. Let’s try this again.”

The gentle sprinkle was more like it.

By the time Darcy got all the soap out and toweled the worst of it off, Peter was exhausted. Which didn’t make much sense. All he did was sit there and not drown.

Getting clothes on was another obstacle. Thankfully, they had the whole “putting on underwear” routine down so that almost wasn’t the weirdest part anymore.

“Darcy are you ready-” Bucky stuck his head into the bedroom. He immediately scowled and swore. “Darcy what the fuck are you wearing-” he demanded. “You can’t go out like that-”

“Shut up,” Darcy sneered at him.

“Darcy-” Bucky said, taking a breath. “I... I don’t want you wearing that outside our floor-” he said, very clearly choosing his words carefully.

“It’s not my outfit! It’s my swimsuit! I wore it so that it wouldn’t be so weird in the shower with the kid. Give me a minute and I’ll change!”

Bucky looked visibly relieved, then frowned. “Wait... you took a shower _ with _ him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax. We wore swimsuits. And someone had to wash his hair. Plus he’s an omega. It’s fine.”

Bucky looked like he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Go away already,” she whined. “You’re ruining the vibe.”

He huffed, but left.

“Don’t listen to him,” she said, and ran a towel through Peter’s hair. “You’re fine. And you’re pack. Tony will tell him to fuck off it comes down to it.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, worried.

“We’re fated so he’s stuck with me,” Darcy said cheerfully. “And I’ll suck his-” she cut herself off, eyes wide. “I mean... shit. Forget it. He won’t care anymore later is what I’m trying to say.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m 15, Darcy, not 5,” he complained, though his cheeks were flaming red.

She raised an eyebrow. “And the color of your face tells me I’m corrupting an innocent. I can tell. I’ve corrupted lots of people- just ask my mother,” she said, and gave his hair one last rub.

Peter huffed.

“There. You’re presentable. Go eat your shake before it gets warm.”

“Thank you Darcy.”

“No problem kid,” she said, and disappeared back into the bathroom. Peter headed for the kitchen.

Bucky eyed him critically. “You gonna be warm enough in that?”

Peter frowned and looked down at himself. He was wearing a wifebeater undershirt and some basketball shorts.

“My shirts don’t all fit over the casts,” he complained. “And my only pair of sweatpants is dirty. I can’t get my other pants off by myself.”

“Hmm... Darcy’s been wanting to go to Target again. We can go and see if we can get you some stuff,” Bucky said. “Go get a blanket. We’re going to an empty floor, it might be chilly and I don’t want you catching cold on top of everythin’ else.”

Peter grumbled, but obeyed, getting a blanket off the couch. He slouched in a kitchen chair and drank his protein shake. He sighed and tried to reposition his arms, hoping it would help make them stop aching.

Bucky frowned at him. “You alright?”

“Arms hurt,” Peter grumbled.

Bucky tsked, and got a nose spray bottle out of the box. “Head back,” he said.

Peter recoiled a bit. “Bucky... I don’t want it-” he whined.

Bucky sat in a chair next to him. “You know there’s no shame in taking stuff for when you’re hurt, right? Stevie does it, so do I. Broken bones suck.”

“But it makes me... floaty,” Peter complained.

“And you’re safe. I’m here. So’s Darcy. You’re always safe when you’re in the Tower.”

“Young Master, I shall also keep watch,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

“See? Even Jarvis has your back here, alright?”

Peter considered. “Okay,” he relented.

“Good boy,” Bucky said, and tilted Peter’s head back with a huge hand. He gave him a squirt of nose spray in each nostril.

Peter coughed a bit, but sniffed deeply and shivered. He blinked long and hard as time slowed down then sped back up.

“Drink your shake sweetheart,” Bucky said, so Peter drank it.

He blinked.

He was being carried in Bucky’s arms. They were in the elevator. Peter frowned. Where had his shake gone? He _ liked _ his shake.

“Where’s my cup?” he whined. “I want my cup.”

Bucky made shushing noises. “Easy now. I’ll give it to you in a minute,” he said, stepping out when the doors slid open.

Peter huffed, and leaned back to bitch at Darcy as they walked past her. “Daaarcy-” he complained. “Bucky won’t give me my cup-”

“I’ve got it honey,” Darcy said.

Peter whined and tried to give her Puppy Eyes, but couldn’t because Bucky had walked past her and was heading towards some sort of giant bean bag chair that had been shoved against a wall. He twisted- trying to look at her-

“Hold still, or I’m gonna drop you,” Bucky rumbled.

Peter huffed again. “My cuuupp-” he protested. Bucky ignored him and carefully put him on the chair. Peter whined some more.

“Here- here-” Darcy hastily shoved the mythical cup into Peter’s arms. He immediately clutched it to his chest and sucked at the straw happily.

“Blanket?” Bucky asked, and then a second later, aggressively tucked Peter in. He even put a pillow under Peter’s head.

Peter hummed happily. Was this heaven? It felt like heaven.

“Who is that, Sergeant?”

Peter blinked sleepily, and realized that there were other people in the big empty room with them- men dressed in SHIELD uniforms. Alphas. He wrinkled his nose at them in disapproval.

“You don’t have clearance,” Bucky snapped. “You talk to him- you UPSET him, and I will _ personally _ throw you out the nearest window. Clear?”

There was a chorus of “Yes sirs”.

“You alright?” Bucky ran a hand through Peter’s hair. “You hurting still?”

“No.”

“Good. Remember- you can have your spray later if you need it, alright?”

Peter nodded.

“Just stay here and rest, okay?”

Peter hummed.

Bucky stood up and wandered off, barking at people. Peter drank his shake and floated for a bit.

After a while, things settled down a bit in his brain, and he just people watched as the alphas built things. Or at least, tried to build things. They weren’t very good at it. Maybe he could help them read the instructions? He shifted, trying to get up, but found Bucky’s tucking in job hampering his efforts.

He struggled.

“Hey- what’s wrong?” Darcy was there.

Peter blinked slowly at her. “I want up,” he whined.

“You need to pee?”

Peter considered. “No,” he whined. “But I want _ up _.”

She sighed and sat cross legged next to him. “You need to stay put man. You’re higher than a kite right now. You’ll just fall and hurt yourself or something.”

Peter grumbled.

“Oh my god it’s like watching toddlers with k’nex in here,” a voice boomed from the elevator. “There’s this paper that comes in the boxes. It’s called, and this is crazy- ‘in-struct-ions.’ You should give it a try. They’ll totally rock your world.”

“Tony!” Peter called. “Help me!”

Tony detoured from wherever he was going and sped walked over. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, somewhat breathless.

Peter pouted. “I want up!” he said, and pushed ineffectually at the blanket. He growled when it didn’t give.

Tony sighed. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that kid. You almost gave me a heart attack-”

“I want UP!” Peter shouted. Tears of frustration leaked a bit from his eyes.

“Whoa- calm down kiddo. Shh...” Tony knelt on the floor and his hand carded Peter’s hair. “I hear you. Do you need to pee?”

Peter huffed and scowled.

“I just asked him that and he said no,” Darcy, the rat, said.

“Daarrrcyy-” Peter whined on general principle.

“Shh..,” Tony said quietly. “Did he take his spray?”

“Yep. Bucky said he gave him two pumps. Should keep him happy for at least another 20 minutes.”

“And his patches?”

“Just one. Put it on this morning before breakfast.”

“Good.”

Peter grumbled, but Tony apparently knew right where to scratch his scalp, and the beanbag _ was _ rather comfy. He leaned back and sighed.

Why did he want to get up again? He couldn’t remember. Whatever. Here was fine.

“Feel better?” Tony asked.

Peter hummed. “Need... need to ask you something.” Peter said.

“Oh?”

“It’s... it’s important.”

“Shoot. I’m all ears.”

Peter concentrated. “Darcy...” he sniffed, gathering his thoughts. “Gonna... gonna have pool party.”

“That sounds like fun,” Tony said, amused.

“Tomorrow.”

“It’s April-” Tony said, frowning at her.

“We’re not going to _ swim _,” Darcy huffed. “I thought it would be fun to have a sort of spa day. Ya know, face and hair masks. Do some serious sunning on the roof. Get the cafeteria to send up little bits of fruit on sticks... maybe throw some cocktail weenies in a crock pot. Talk about where we’re going to take Peter to get his haircut. You know. Omega stuff.”

Tony considered her. “Haircut?”

“Don need it. May does it,” Peter bitched.

“She also buys you two in one shampoo and conditioner,” Darcy retorted back. “At some point I think you’re going to have to accept that neither one of you knows what to do with your curls.”

“You seriously use two in one shampoo?” Tony demanded, scandalized.

Peter grumbled.

“Relax. We’re going to Target tomorrow morning. Get the face masks. Enough coconut oil to drown a bitch, and some new sweatpants and muscle shirts for the little one. While we’re there I’ll get him some actual conditioner.”

“Has anyone talked to Natasha?” Tony asked.

“Not yet,” Darcy said.

“Jarvis?” Tony asked, but nothing answered him. He swore. “I forgot. Didn’t bother to put him on the empty floors,” he said and dug out a phone. He pressed a button on it. “Jarvis?” he tried again.

“Sir?” the computer sounded strange coming from the phone speaker.

“If Nat’s in town, ask her if she’s down for a team spa day set for tomorrow. My treat.”

Darcy frowned. “Are we going to a spa then?” she asked.

“Nope. The spa will come to us-” he said gleefully.

“Sir, Ms. Romanoff wants to know what time the event is,” Jarvis said.

Tony considered. “Noonish. We can have brunch or something. And call all the people- you know the ones. Spa day for-” he paused, “4 VIP omegas-”

“Five-” Darcy said. “I’m dragging Jane out of her cave.”

“Five then. And call Ramón- I want him earlier. He can give Peter a haircut too,” he paused. “And no alphas. I’ll pay whatever.”

“Of course sir. I’m assuming that you will not be needing the usual strippers?”

Peter blinked, and stared wide-eyed at Tony. Strippers? _ At a brunch _? He knew rich people were weird but still...

“First, I’m a mated man now, so no. And second, no-one does strippers for brunch- it’s gauche. I’m disappointed in you Jarvis. Remind me to go over your party parameters later,” Tony said.

“I believe that may be called for, sir,” Jarvis said. “It has been some time since your last... ‘rager’,”Jarvis said. He managed to sound judgmental as hell about it even though he was just a computer.

“Really Tony? Strippers at a brunch?” Darcy asked. “Even for you that’s...”

“For the record- I’ve never had strippers over before 1 in the afternoon so shut up. And second, the good ones don’t work that early anyway...” he trailed off. He looked at Peter as if realizing he was there for the first time. “How much do you think he’s going to remember about this?” Tony asked, suddenly worried.

“Hopefully none of it,” Darcy said, similarly wincing.

“Darcy’s gonna give Bucky a blow job later,” Peter said matter of factly like he was commenting on the weather. He blinked. Wait. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud...

“Anndd now you’ve lost babysitting privileges,” Tony said firmly to Darcy.

“Hey! I’m not the one talking about strippers,” Darcy said pointedly.

Peter huffed and managed to free an arm. He had an itch on his nose-

A hand blocked him. Peter whined.

“Stop doing that!” Darcy scolded, exasperated.

“Darcy... why does my pup have bubble wrap on his casts?” Tony asked, his tone dangerous.

“Because he keeps smacking himself in the face with them,” Darcy said. “He’s done it like four times already- three times in his sleep. At one point Bucky thought he'd given himself a black eye.”

“I _ itch _!” Peter bitched.

“Here-” she said, and gently scraped his nose with her nails.

Holy shit that felt good.

Speaking of good- “Where’s my cup?” he whined the second she stopped. He had it like a second ago. “I want my cup!” he demanded angrily.

“Here- you dropped it-” Darcy hastily shoved it back into his arms.

Peter purred happily with bliss as he drank his shake.

“What the hell is in that thing?” Tony demanded.

“Bucky made him a protein shake this morning. I made him pancakes but he had trouble working the fork. Only ate half of what I gave him.” Darcy reported.

“It has a banana in it!” Peter declared happily before going back to inhaling his shake.

“Jesus Christ it’s like he’s bi-polar,” Tony said.

“Sort of,” Darcy sighed. “I just don’t know what we’ll do when he runs out of shake-”

There was a deep, rattling sucking noise like a straw running out of liquid.

Peter shook the cup, tried again. Got air. He frowned. Sniffed. His nose wrinkled. He was out of shake? But it was so _ good _ ... Had been good. Because now it was gone. Completely and utterly _ gone _. A wounded whine built up from the back of his throat, and his eyes started to water-

“Hey- hey- you want to come see the penthouse, kiddo?” Tony said suddenly. “All the new furniture came today.”

“I can go to the Penthouse?” Peter asked brightly, shake forgotten. It’d been ages since he’d last been. And since it was Tony’s private nest it was strictly invitation only.

“You sure? It’s supposed to be our turn today,” Darcy said.

“It’s fine. I can take him for a couple of hours. Let you finish... this-” Tony gestured at the alphas toiling at IKEA assembling. “Whatever this disaster is.”

Darcy sighed. “Yeah. Sam was supposed to help ‘supervise’ but he got stuck in D.C. yesterday. Supposedly he should be here sometime later today...”

“Shouldn’t Clint be here helping out?”

“He’s doing paperwork with Nat. They’re finishing up the preliminary work on that trafficking ring. They’re gonna put a bow on it and drop it on some FBI smuck’s desk later today.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully, then turned back to Peter.

“So, what will it be kid? You want to come with me to the penthouse? Order some lunch? Take a nap?” Tony asked,

“Can I have bacon?” he asked with his best Puppy Eyes.

Tony looked like he was trying to hide a smile. “Sure kid. We can have bacon.”

Peter tried to get up- but again found the blanket tucking him in hampering his efforts. He growled in frustration.

“Hang on! Let me help-” Tony protested. Somehow he got Peter free from the accursed blanket with only a few tugs on the damned thing. It almost wasn’t fair, how awesome Tony was at everything.

Tony snorted. “Yeah kid. Thanks- but come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Peter blinked. Had he said that part out loud?

“Yep, and that too,” Tony said, his eyes twinkling.

Goddamn it.

“Okay- first of all, language- and second of all, you’re gonna have to walk kid. My back can’t take carrying teenagers around.”

Tony helped him to his feet.

“What’s goin’ on?” Bucky asked, coming over.

“Kid ran out of milkshake. I’m gonna take him upstairs, feed him lunch and put him down for a nap. You can have him back when you’re done with the kindergarteners.”

Bucky considered him for a moment, almost like he was going to argue, then dug out a nasal spray from his back pocket and handed it over. “He can have another dose at noon.”

Tony pocketed it. “Got it. You ready kiddo?”

Peter hummed and took a step, and stumbled a bit.

“Hang on- arm around my shoulder- there- that’s it.”

It was awkward, but it worked. Peter was a couple of inches shorter than Tony. So it worked, sort of. Tony had to slouch a bit.

“You need help-” Bucky asked.

“I got him,” Tony snipped, and together they stumbled into the elevator.

Peter sighed deeply.

“What’s wrong kiddo?” Tony asked.

“Why are we so _ short _?” Peter lamented. “It’s not fair!”

Tony nearly choked on a snort of laughter. “Hey- _we _are not short. _You_ are short. I am average,” Tony said smugly.

“You _ cheat _. You have lifts in your shoes,” Peter complained bitterly. Now Tony really did choke.

“What- how the _ hell _ do you know that?” he demanded.

Peter rolled his eyes. “_ Everyone _ knows. And I can’t reach the cabinets,” Peter complained bitterly. “You built this place. Would it have killed you to put in lower cabinets?”

“What do you mean everyone?” Tony demanded.

Peter huffed. “Should put all the cabinets on the floor. Make them all crawl to get stuff,” he bitched. “Like... right on the floor. Serve them right. For being all... _ tall _ all the time.” Peter sneered the word like it was some sort of slur.

“Peter- who told you about my shoes?” Tony demanded.

Peter considered for a moment. “Shorter in the shop,” he said.

Tony sucked teeth, and sighed. “Right. You’ve seen me barefoot.”

“It’s stupid. Make me taller,” Peter whined.

Tony snorted. “Wrong genius, kid. That’s Bruce’s territory, not mine.”

Peter grumbled.

“But hey- don’t lose hope. They say you don’t stop growing until you’re in your twenties. You still have time.”

“But I want to be taller _ now _...” Peter whined.

“Sorry kiddo. Can’t help you there,” Tony said. “Come on- this is our stop.”

Together they managed to stagger out of the elevator. Tony directed them to a couch. It was identical to the ones in the common room. Peter gratefully fell into it face first.

“Hey- no sleeping. Naps are for later,” Tony insisted.

“Nap now,” Peter grunted.

“If you’re gonna nap, it’s going to be in a bed. Come on.”

Peter pulled his head up to peek at the bedroom on the other side of the floor. “It’s too far,” he whined.

Tony poked him mercilessly. “Come on buttercup. Go to bed and I’ll join you, okay?”

Peter huffed. “Fine,” he relented, and let Tony lever him up again.

The bedroom was ages away. They barely made it. Peter collapsed on the new bed, his lower half dangling off the mattress to land on the floor. “Leave me. Save yourself,” Peter groaned.

“Stop being such... a ... baby-” Tony strained, grabbing Peter’s legs and heaving. He managed to get the teenager fully on the bed. Peter did absolutely nothing to help.

Tony laid there for a moment, draped over Peter as he got his breath back.

“I’m cold,” Peter bitched. “It wasn’t cold on the couch,” he complained bitterly. “And you’re heavy.”

Tony groaned. “Shut up, ingrate,” he grunted, and stripped Peter’s shoes off before getting up and disappearing.

Peter huffed, and after some wiggling, managed to get under the covers. God, he was tired. Who knew walking was so tiring?

He was drifting when he felt the mattress dip next to him.

“Stop hogging the blankets,” Tony complained.

“No,” Peter grumped.

Tony skillfully poked Peter firmly in the back, making the teenager hiss and flex before snatching the blankets out of Peter’s grip.

“Cheating!” Peter whined.

“Shut up and snuggle with me,” Tony grumbled, and pulled on an arm.

Peter let out a long suffering sigh, but rolled over and let Tony maneuver him where the older omega wanted him. Peter wound up half-laying on him, head on his shoulder. He sighed again as Tony gently ran fingers through his hair.

“Shh...” Tony murmured.

Peter drifted, his single free finger gently tracing the arc-reactor in Tony’s chest through his undershirt.

“Go to sleep sweetheart,” Tony said.

Peter did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS. 
> 
> /endofpsa (I love you all. Please don’t die.) 
> 
> But seriously folks. Be careful out there. The bad news: My second job has been cancelled for two weeks due to Corona. The good news: I’ll be fine, and I’m considering it to be like a mini-vacation in which I can laze around more in my jammies and maybe get more writing done.
> 
> EDIT: inkedsecrets was confused by my first take at this chapter, and spoke up about a legit continuity issue/concern. Everyone wave! Thanks for speaking up, inkedsecrets! 
> 
> I’ve changed some things to fix the issue and make some things clearer.


	36. Enjoying the High Life II - Paisley, Pack and Target Runs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter consisting of 99.9% fluff. I thought about making this two chapters, but decided “Fuck it. We’re doing it all in one!” So get your snack, your hand sanitizer, and your wine. This is by far the longest chapter I’ve ever written- clocking in at a whopping 39 pages in my google docs.

Peter stretched- and smacked himself awake with a cast to his skull when his arms snapped backwards. He whined in pain.

“Jesus Christ, they weren’t kidding-” Tony swore from somewhere next to him.

“What? What happened?” Steve asked.

“Kid smacked himself in his sleep with his cast,” Tony sighed.

“What?” Steve demanded. “Is that why they’re covered in bubble wrap?”

“I’m awake you know,” Peter growled. “I can hear you.” He pried his eyes open. He was in bed with Tony, his face smushed into his chest. He wondered distantly if he was going to have an imprint of Tony’s arc reactor on his face after this.

“I would hope so-” Tony said. “I think you dusted your own cobwebs there. Do you _ always _ smack your head when you stretch?”

Peter sniffed. Flexed his toes. “Hurts,” he mumbled.

“What hurts?” Tony asked, gently stroking a cheek with his thumb.

“Stretching,” Peter mumbled. “Keep forgetting.”

Tony considered him. “You stretch and it hurts so you pull back and smack yourself?” he asked after a long moment. He sounded confused.

Peter hummed non committedly. “Scares me,” he mumbled.

Tony considered him some more. “You stretch and it hurts- and it startles you- so you pull back and smack yourself?” he asked.

Now Peter hummed affirmatively.

Steve snorted a laugh. “Only you, kid.”

Peter frowned. Where the fuck was the alpha anyway? Steve’s voice was coming from somewhere behind him, but his warmth was missing from Peter’s back. He twisted around to see-

“Shh... don’t move-” Tony tried to pull him back, but Peter wanted to SEE, so he ignored him.

Much to Peter’s confusion, Steve wasn’t in bed with them. He was sitting in a chair next to the bed. He was holding a pencil, and... a sketchbook(?) was balanced on Steve’s knee.

“Are... are you _ drawing _ me?” Peter demanded, alarmed.

“He’s drawing _ us, _” Tony corrected gently, and pulled Peter back into his chest. “Hush.”

Peter huffed. “But my hair’s all weird-” he complained, but let himself be pulled back against the older omega anyway. “I haven’t combed it-”

“You’re fine,” Tony said, and laid his cheek against Peter’s head. His calloused fingers traced invisible lines on the back of Peter’s neck.

At first, Peter tensed- those fingers were awfully close to his scruff spot. But when Tony made no move to scruff him he relaxed with a sigh and just... floated for a bit while he drifted awake. It was nice.

But his thoughts didn’t stay still for long. He was hungry, for a start. And he kinda needed to pee.

His right leg started up, shaking gently.

Tony sighed fondly. “You’ve got like two minutes max here, babe. He’s getting restless.”

“I’ve got it. He can get up if he wants,” Steve said.

Peter leapt out of bed. Or, at least, that’s what he meant to do. Instead he sort of rolled/slid out of bed and staggered his way out to the bathroom.

He had to sit down to pee. His hands were about as useful as baseball mitts for cats right now.

So he sat. And peed. Like a girl.

Jesus Christ would this indignantly never _ end_?

At least he could manage pulling his pants back up by himself.

And then it took him way too long to figure out how to wash his fucking 3 free fingers without getting soap to run into his casts.

He managed to walk normally back to the kitchen and after a couple of tries, got the fridge open with a thumb.

He glared at the juice bottles- they were the same brand as the ones on the common floor- then ignored them.

“Looking for something in particular?” Steve asked, amused.

Peter sighed. “I’m hungry- but my hands kinda hurt still.”

“Do you want your spray?” Steve asked seriously.

Peter shook his head. Damnit, he should have kept his mouth shut. “No,” he said, scowling. He didn’t _ want _ to float anymore damnit.

“Hey- it’s okay. You don’t have to take it,” Steve said. “You want me to make you another shake?”

“Can you put a banana in it?” Peter asked hopefully. “And peanut butter?”

“Sure. Think I have some marshmallow fluff that needs to be used up too,” Steve said.

Peter’s eyes widened. “I can have marshmallow fluff in my shake?” he demanded, bouncing with excitement.

“Of course. I like it in mine from time to time.”

Peter gave Steve a big hug. “You’re the best alpha ever,” Peter said sincerely, his face buried in the man’s chest.

Steve gave a surprised chuckle, and ruffled Peter’s hair. “If you say so, Pete,” he said, but his smile was beaming.

Peter bounced over to the couch to sit next to Tony. “Did you hear? I’m gonna get marshmallow fluff in my shake-”

Tony looked up from his tablet to look at Peter. “Uh huh. Exactly what you need kid- more sugar,” he said loudly, and gave Steve a pointed judgemental glare.

Steve ignored him. “We need to use it up!” he protested.

Tony sighed, and rolled his eyes. “This mean you feeling better kiddo?”

Peter shrugged. “I’m alright.”

Tony returned his attention to his tablet. “Have you called your Aunt today?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” Tony said in that special adult “I’m judging you and your poor life choices” way.

“I don’t have a phone,” Peter said. “Remember? I broke mine?”

Tony frowned. “Thought I got you a new one.”

Peter shrunk in on himself. “That was only if I was good during the MRI,” he said quietly.

Tony froze. Carefully put the tablet down, and gave Peter his full attention. “Who said you weren’t ‘good’ for your MRI? Because I never said that-”

Peter winced. “But-” he held up a casted arm. “And I think I broke the machine,” he said forlornly.

“That- no. Having a panic attack is not- Jesus Christ, come give me a hug. I can’t talk to you about this without a proper hug,” Tony babbled, and reached for him.

Peter let himself be gathered up to lean against the omega.

“You were perfect for that fucking MRI. _ Perfect. _You laid still and didn’t complain, even when you probably should have and that was my fault. It is NOT your fault that that idiot of a nurse touched you and made you freak out. You had a panic attack Pete. It happens. Alright? I’m gonna get you a new phone.”

Peter considered. “You... you’re not mad?”

“Fuck no. I was scared. You bled a bit. Got it all over me and Steve and-” Tony cut himself off. “I’d gladly pay for another MRI machine. It’s nothing. Who cares. I don’t. Do you know how much medical equipment Bucky went through when he was first defrosted? It was crazy.”

Peter frowned. “Bucky broke stuff?”

“When he first woke up, he was... confused. He’d been sleeping for a long time,” Steve said and brought Peter his shake. “And he doesn’t remember hardly any of it,” he said pointedly, frowning at Tony.

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Jarvis, did you hear me? New phone. Right now.”

“One will be brought up momentarily,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

“Good. Now look at this. I’m stuck. I’m trying to make Rhodey’s suit as ugly as possible and I can’t find the right shade of puke green-” Tony said. He picked up his tablet and angled it so Peter could see it.

Peter sucked at his shake, and considered the image on the tablet in front of him. It was the War Machine suit, but in a variety of sickly yellows and greens.

Peter frowned. “Are you actually going to paint him that?” he asked, concerned.

“No. But I’m not going to tell him that,” Tony smirked.

“Then why don’t you make him neon?” Peter asked. “Like... lime green and bright pink?”

Tony hummed with thought. “I thought about that, but he wouldn’t buy it for a second. That’s too... obviously non-tactical. He needs to believe that I actually have developed bad taste.”

There was a snort from Steve in the kitchen that sounded exactly like someone desperately holding in laughter. Tony scowled at him for a second before ignoring him.

“Can you do, like patterns?” Peter asked.

“Like what?”

“Well...” Peter considered, and immediately discarded several ideas. Neither Tony nor Steve would get the “hentai shirt” meme/joke, and that would invite... questions he didn’t want to answer. Mainly, “what the hell was wrong with him/his generation”?

“Can you look up fabric patterns?”

“Sure. You have one in mind?”

“I don’t know what it’s called.”

Tony opened up a browser and searched for fabric patterns.

“There- that one,” Peter said, pointing at the screen. The image in question looked like rainbow flowers as drawn by someone high on acid then stretched randomly in photoshop.

“You mean paisley?” Tony asked indignantly. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Is that what it’s called? It’s hideous. Aunt May has this shirt she likes to wear-”

“There is nothing wrong with paisley, kid.” Tony said stubbornly.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked as he wandered over, curious.

“He’s saying he thinks this is hideous!” Tony waved the tablet at him. Steve expertly took it from him without being smacked by it.

“Well. I mean- it’s very... colorful,” Steve said diplomatically.

Both omegas gaped at him.

“There’s nothing wrong with a good paisley-” Tony said at exactly the same time that Peter blurted, “Are you blind?”

Steve handed the tablet back to Tony. “I’m sure you look amazing in anything, dear,” he said, then determinedly strode towards the elevator.

“Where are you going?” Tony demanded.

“My old floor- I’m going to move some stuff-” he flashed a smile as the doors closed.

Peter stared at the elevator, agape. “Did... did Steve just run away?” Peter demanded, shocked.

Tony ignored him. “Look, you just have to find the right paisley-”

“It’s rainbow vomit on a shirt, Tony,” Peter whined. “Complicated rainbow vomit. It’s too _ busy _-”

“Which is why you pair it with a plain jacket and non-patterned tie-”

“It’s rainbow vomit. That you _ wear _-” Peter protested.

Tony huffed. “I thought you liked rainbow vomit-”

Peter made a face. “Since when-”

“That rug from IKEA was hideous-”

“And it’s on my floor. With stuff all over it,” Peter said instantly. “I don’t WEAR it-”

“Come here. I’ll show you that it’s fine-”

10 minutes later half of Tony’s closet was thrown all over the bedroom floor.

“I know I have it somewhere-” Tony bitched.

“It’s a sign that you shouldn’t wear it,” Peter said, smugly and drank his shake while he sat on the bed. “Consider it a gift from the world _ to _ the world-”

“AHA! Knew I had it- here-” Tony produced the paisley shirt proudly and held it aloft.

Peter wrinkled his nose at it. It was eye watering. The background was various shades blue but the raindrop/flower things were all red and white and navy. The patterns were so crowded together that most of them overlapped. At least it wasn’t rainbow, but that was pretty much all that it had going for it.

“Tony,” Peter whined. “You _ have _ to burn that shirt-”

“There’s _ nothing _ wrong with this shirt!” Tony said, shaking the shirt for emphasis.

Peter sighed. It was a long suffering sigh filled with judgement.

Tony scowled. “You just don’t see the vision of it-” he protested. “Here- I’ll show you-” he said and vanished into his closet again.

There was a hesitant knock on the open bedroom door. “Mr. Stark?” a slim male beta in a cheap suit looked uncertain he was even supposed to exist right now. Peter gave him some serious side-eye and scooted away from him. Who the fuck was this?

Tony poked his head out of the closet, the hideous paisley shirt half buttoned. “What?”

“I have the phone that you wanted, sir.”

“Great- leave it on the bed- no wait-”

The beta froze in mid-movement as he was obeying. “Sir?”

“Tell me- this looks fine, doesn’t it?” Tony demanded, shirt now on. He shrugged on a white sports jacket over it.

“Umm... it looks fine?” the beta offered.

“See?” Tony demanded proudly. “It’s ‘fine’!”

Peter scoffed. “That’s not fair! You’re an employee, right?” Peter demanded.

“Yes?” the beta said, clearly confused.

“He doesn’t count! You can’t _ pay _ people then ask them for their opinions on things-” Peter protested.

“Kid, that’s like 80 percent of what I _ do _-” Tony protested.

“He’s not going to tell _ you _that’s ugly- not to your face-”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Look- what’s your name?”

“Jonathan Drake, sir.”

“Okay Jonathan, you’d tell me if it was ugly, wouldn’t you?”

“Umm.... yes?”

“SEE?” Tony demanded.

“Jon, tell him that it’s ugly. That it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen,” Peter shot back.

“Umm...” Jonathon looked like he’d rather be at the bottom of the ocean at this exact second.

“See? He can’t say it. Because you _ pay _ him.”

Both omegas turned to glare at Jon. Jon wore his best “please don’t fire/eat me” pained smile.

After a brief standoff, Tony sighed resignedly. “Oh- for god’s sake leave the phone and get out of here already-”

The poor man practically skidded across the floor as he escaped.

“SEE?” Peter said smugly.

Tony scowled. “We’ll see about that-” he snarked, and dug his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. He dialed a number.

“Who are you calling?” Peter complained as he tried to figure out how to turn on the phone that had been left on the bed.

“Someone with impeccable taste and who won’t lie to me- Hey!”

“Oh my god, Tony- what did you do _ now _?” the irritated voice of a woman that Peter didn’t recognize answered.

“What? I’ve done nothing-”

“Is this about the little bonfire you had on the landing pad? I’ve already got complaints from the city about it-”

“Actually, I need your honest opinion on something.”

“Tony-” she sounded one second away from losing her temper.

“Pep, come on. One second.”

“You have exactly one.”

“This shirt- it looks fine, doesn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” she replied instantly. Her voice sounded like she was already exhausted from Tony's shenanigans even though he’d only been talking to her for less than a minute.

Peter scowled at him. “You don’t even have video chat on- she can’t see you!” he complained.

“Ugh- she knows what my closet has she doesn’t need to see-”

“Turn on video chat and try again-” Peter insisted.

Tony scowled at him, and pressed a button on his phone. Nothing happened.

“Pep?” he asked uncertainly.

“I believe that she has hung up on you, sir,” Jarvis said blithely from the ceiling.

“See? It’s so bad she can’t even_ think _about seeing you in it-” Peter said smugly.

Tony rolled his eyes and dialed another number.

“What do you want, Stark?” Natasha asked. “And why is this a video call?”

“I need your opinion on this shirt-” Tony said. “Tell the kid-” he stopped, and made a face at the phone. “She hung up on me too!” he said, astonished.

“Uh huh. Because the shirt is ugly,” Peter said matter of factly, busy setting up his new phone. “What’s the wifi password?”

Tony ignored him. “I’ll tell you what- tomorrow is a gala.”

“Uh huh,” Peter said, poking at his phone.

“There will be reporters there- fashion reporters.”

Peter looked up, both fascinated and horrified. “You’re going to wear that shirt to a _ gala _?” he demanded. “But galas are fancy-”

“It’s my gala so I can wear what I want-”

Peter’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “You’re going to ruin your _ own _ gala-” he protested.

Tony ignored him. “And I will ask THEM what they think of the shirt.”

Peter stared at him. A wonderful horrible idea came to him. “Is this like a bet?”

Tony frowned. “No. I will ask them what they think-”

“And if I’m right I can have a spin in the Iron Man suit?” Peter asked quickly. Too quickly.

Tony scoffed. “Absolutely not. The suit requires some serious control to fly it-”

“So does swinging!” Peter protested. “It’ll be fine-”

“It will be fine because it’s not going to happen-”

“But swinging is so much harder than flying-”

“On Mars maybe-” Tony scoffed.

Peter gave him a Look. Another wonderful, fantastic idea came to him.

“I’ll tell you what- if I’m right- which I am, by the way- and the shirt is awful you have to do some web swinging. And _ I _ get to film it.”

Tony considered him. “And if I’m right?”

Peter paused, stumped. “Um...”

“How about _ you _ go on camera as Spider-Man, and you have to give a speech-”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “A speech?”

“About how I’m the best and your favorite avenger.”

Peter gave him a Look. “Dude-”

“Ah ah- it has to be heartfelt. I expect tears about my awesomeness.”

Peter considered him. Considered the shirt.

“You’re on,” Peter said firmly.

“Did you get that Jarvis?” Tony demanded.

“Yes sir.”

“And no having your friend Ted writing the speech for you either,” Tony said happily.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Can I have the wifi password now?” he whined.

“Jarvis, will you set up his phone already?”

“I am importing settings now,” Jarvis said.

Peter squeaked a bit as his phone started to do things apparently on it’s own. “Holy shit that’s so creepy-” he complained.

“Language,” Tony scolded absently as he picked clothes up off the floor.

“Sir, Sergeant Barnes wishes to let you know that he’s done, quote ‘supervising the idiots’.”

Tony paused. “Did everything get assembled?”

“Lady Barnes indicates that everything has been put together.”

“Great! Steve will pick up our stuff later.”

“Why don’t you just have Bucky bring it up?” Peter asked.

Tony shook his head. “It’s a pack rule,” he said. “No adult alphas in our nest without Steve’s express invitation.”

Peter made a face. “Seriously? But- he _ knows _ Bucky- and why can’t _ you _ invite him-”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t make the rules. That’s just the way it is.”

Peter huffed. “The rules are stupid-”

Tony stopped what he was doing, and looked at Peter.

“Hey- look at me- the rules are there to protect us,” Tony said. “I know that we trust everyone in our pack- otherwise they wouldn’t be included. But there might be a time where we have to extend our ranks and invite some people in- like SHIELD. The rules would keep them in line and give us a safe space.”

“I thought SHIELD was on our side,” Peter said, confused.

Tony hummed. “They don’t know everything. And that’s another rule- no talking about the pack to non-pack members. Ever. Period. That includes your friend Red.”

Peter looked horrified. “What- like Fight Club? Seriously?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Loose lips sink ships,” he said vaguely. “We’re a War Pack. You know that. We have secrets. Like how you and me are omegas. Or my designs.”

Peter frowned, now even more confused. “What? But... May told my school I’m an omega-”

Tony shook his head. “I can’t control her. She’s not Pack. But you are. And I’m telling you- it’s not safe for people to know that you’re an omega. Officially, Spider-Man is an Alpha. We would have made you a Beta, but you can’t take scent blockers, so...” he shrugged. “You’ll at least have an excuse to hole up every three months or so for your heat.”

Peter stared at him, shocked. “Tony-” he protested. “I... There’s no way anyone will believe I’m an Alpha. They’d just have to look at me- I’m too short-”

Tony shook his head. “Something about spider DNA, interference with hormones...” he waved a hand vaguely. “Bruce has it all written down on official forms and everything somewhere.”

“But... _ why _?”

Tony sighed. “Because the world isn’t fair, Pete. Omegas can do a lot of things, but...” he shrugged. “I’ll explain when you’re older.”

Peter crossed his arms and sulked. “I’m almost 16, not stupid,” he complained.

“And the fact you just said ‘almost 16’ means that you’re definitely still a pup,” Tony said firmly.

Peter huffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay boomer,” he said dismissively.

Tony froze. “Did... did you just call me _ old _? Was that... I am NOT a boomer*-” Tony sputtered.

“Don’t trust anyone over 30,” Peter said sweetly.

Tony stared at him. “You know that saying is from the 60s, right?”

Peter shrugged and smirked at him.

“You know what? Out.”

Peter’s face fell. “What?” he squawked.

“You heard me. It’s Bucky’s day with you anyway. Go call HIM old-”

“_Tony-! _” Peter whined.

“Nope. Uh-uh. Shoo. I’m _ old _ and need peace and quiet,” Tony snarked. “Go on!”

Peter scowled at him. “I’m taking my shake-”

“You do that,” Tony said, completely unperturbed.

“And my phone-” Peter said, wedging the phone under an armpit.

“Uh huh,” Tony said from his closet.

Peter hesitated at the door. “Tony-” he tried.

“Nope. Off you go,” Tony said instantly. “Go on.”

Peter sniffed, and stormed off. By the time he got to the elevator, he was holding back tears.

“Jarvis-” he managed.

“Sergeant Barnes is on his floor. I will alert him that you are coming,” Jarvis said calmly.

“Thanks, J,” Peter said miserably.

“Any time, Young Master.”

Peter drank his shake.

“Hey kid-” Bucky called out when he got off the elevator. “You hungry-... what the hell happened?” he demanded.

“Hmm?” Peter asked, still drinking his shake.

“You look like someone just kicked your puppy-” Bucky said worriedly, walking away from the fridge to cup Peter’s face. “Are your arms bothering you again?” he asked worriedly, studying Peter carefully.

Peter sniffed. “I called Tony old and he kicked me out of the penthouse,” he said quietly, his eyes watering again.

Bucky bit a lip and looked like he couldn’t decide between being concerned or laughing.

“It’ll be fine, kid,” he said, and ruffled Peter’s hair. “He’ll get over it.”

“What’s happening?” Darcy demanded from the sofa.

“Kid called Tony old, got sent back to us,” Bucky said, chuckling.

“What-” she twisted in her seat and took one look at Peter’s face. “Oh honey- come here-”

He went and sat next to her on the couch. She pulled him in for a hug. “What happened?”

Peter sniffed. “He said he’d explain something when I’m older, but I’m not stupid!” he protested. “So I said, ‘okay boomer’ and he just.. I don’t know,” he said miserably.

Darcy snickered. “Oh god. No- no- I know. You’re upset. But seriously- you okay boomer’d him? Jarvis, please tell me there’s footage of that-”

“I’m afraid that would violate the privacy protocol-” Jarvis said stiffly.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Party pooper!”

“I don’t get it. What does boomer even _ mean _?” Bucky complained.

“Ask me again when we have like 2 hours and a powerpoint. Seriously dude. I need to get you on Reddit.”

“Darcy-” Bucky complained.

She huffed. “Fine. Boomers are like in their 60s now. And most of them are clueless when it comes to things like technology and are stuck in their ways. Saying ‘okay boomer’ is like saying, ‘Whatever you say stupid old person’ and then ignoring them. Because they’re old. And don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“And you said that to Tony?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“He kept saying that paisley is something that’s okay to wear-” Peter said heatedly.

“What’s wrong with paisley? I used to have a tie that was paisley-” Bucky said.

“He had an entire _ shirt _ that was paisley. It was awful Darcy! He said he was going to wear it to his gala and ask the fashion reporters about it just to prove me wrong-”

Darcy struggled, and failed, to hold in her giggles. “Seriously kid, what even is your life?” she demanded. “Tony Stark is like _ known _ for dressing sharp-”

Peter rolled his eyes. “_Lies _ ,” he said fervently. “All of it. You should see him when he’s been in the shop for a few days. One day I came in and had to ask him to put on pants because he’d accidentally set his sweatpants on fire, then took them off and forgot he was just in his boxers. He’s a _ disaster _ Darcy-”

Darcy snickered. “Kid. Everyone is a disaster. Some are just better at hiding it. And anyway- speaking of fashion, I know I said we’d go to Target tomorrow-”

Peter pouted. “We’re not going?” he asked.

“Well, Tony’s having his brunch thing and I kinda want to sleep in tomorrow-”

Peter’s pout intensified. “Daaarcy-” he whined.

“So we’re going tonight.”

Peter instantly brightened. “Really?”

“Yep. So go get your shoes on and we’ll go.”

“And a jacket-” Bucky said firmly.

Peter frowned down at his bare feet. “What the hell happened to my shoes?” he asked, puzzled.

“Sir took them off before your nap,” Jarvis said from the ceiling. “They are currently in the penthouse bedroom.”

“Has my Aunt been by with my clothes yet?” Peter complained to the ceiling.

“Not as of yet, no,” Jarvis said.

Peter sighed dramatically. “I don’t have a jacket here-” he complained.

“You can borrow one of mine,” Darcy said. “I think I have some slides somewhere too.”

Peter followed her to a closet and watched as she pawed through a collection of jackets- 90% of them were huge and several of them looked like they were intended for someone who lived in the arctic instead of New York.

“Babe- we seriously need to talk about your jacket... collection thing-” Darcy complained.

“I need those coats! I wear them on missions!” Bucky refuted.

“Well, then we need to find a place to put them so that I can find _ my _ jackets-” Darcy shot back. “My tiny stupid omega arms can’t move them all, they’re so heavy-” she bitched.

Peter, who’d been watching her paw through them, stopped her. “What’s that one?”

She considered the one she had her hand on. It was a heavy denim jacket with some sort of camel colored lining and a hood. “It’s some sort of denim hoodie,” she said.

“Can I wear that one?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s one of Bucky’s- it’s gonna swim on you-”

“I wanna try.”

Her eyes flicked to Bucky who shrugged. “He can wear it if he wants,” he said.

Darcy dragged it out of the closet and helped him put it on. She was right. It was BIG. But it was also soft and warm. He flipped the hood up and the world vanished as it covered his entire head.

“It’s awesome!” he said happily.

Darcy sniggered. “If you say so kid. Come on. Lets see if I can find you some shoes.”

They found a battered pair of ancient Adidas slides in a box.

“I think I wore these in the showers in the dorms,” she said. “Try them.”

They were big, but they worked. He didn’t quite have to make an effort to curl his toes to keep them on, but he definitely wouldn’t be able to run in them.

Darcy gave him a once over. “You look like you’re playing dress up,” she said fondly. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re just going to Target.”

“Can we get Doritos?” Peter asked hopefully as he followed her back into the living room.

“We’ll see,” Bucky said. “You have your spray?”

“No,” Peter said.

“Sir still has it in his pocket,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

Bucky sighed, and rifled through the box on the kitchen table and pulled out another nose spray and slipped it in a pocket.

“How many of those things did she give me?” Peter asked, concerned.

“Just the two. I’ll be sure to get the one from Tony back later,” Bucky said. “Everyone ready?”

It turned out that one of the perks of being an Avenger is that Tower security would drive you anywhere in a Range Rover. Peter sat in the third row in the back and sulked half heartedly about it while he finished his shake.

“Why can’t I sit up front?” he asked- making a point to not whine.

“It’s against protocol,” Bucky replied from the middle row, and otherwise ignored him.

Peter sighed. He hated that answer almost as much as “because I said so”.

It turned out that Target in Manhattan was much different than the Target in Queens. It was much smaller for one thing- for another there were several levels to it. Peter followed Bucky and Darcy as they got a cart.

“Did you ever get blankets and things?” Darcy asked. “I don’t think so,” Peter said.

“We’ll get some while we’re here,” she said.

They had to go to the lower level for house stuff.

It happened while Darcy was considering two different blankets that looked pretty much the same to Peter. Bucky was leaning on the cart, watching the approaches from the escalator and basically blocking his end of the aisle, when a tiny little tingle itched the back of Peter’s neck.

He looked up from the blankets- and yes, Bucky was there. But there- at the other end of the aisle was an alpha Peter didn’t know.

He wasn’t doing anything. Just... looking at pillows. He even looked normal. He wore jeans, a gray hoodie and he had some lotion in his little carry basket. Maybe he was shopping for a girlfriend?

“Peter?” Darcy asked pointedly, interrupting Peter’s side eye.

“What?”

“I said, what color do you want?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Blue is fine,” he said. Darcy threw several blue ones into the shopping cart.

“Remind me- how many sheet sets do you have?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t remember,” he said.

Darcy turned her attention to the sheets.

The alpha picked up a pillow and put it in his basket. He wandered a few feet closer.

Peter took a few steps closer to Bucky. Darcy didn’t notice, but Bucky did. He watched Peter for a split second before settling his gaze on the alpha in the aisle.

“Everything okay kid?” Bucky murmured.

“I... I’m okay,” Peter murmured back. There was no reason for him to be acting like this, damnit. It was just a man.

Bucky watched him, his gaze flicking between Peter and the man. He shifted his stance so that he visibly took up more the aisle. For some reason, his new posture put Peter in mind of those vapid muscle-bound alphas from reality TV shows.

“Darcy- baby- it’s sheets, not a paint color. Pick one already,” Bucky said good naturedly and a bit louder than strictly necessary.

Darcy huffed. “Paint colors are important!” she scowled.

“The kid don’t care what sheets you get ‘im,” Bucky said.

“Fine! You’re getting Jersey sheets then,” she said, and started chucking a variety of colors into the cart.

The alpha had paused to watch the interchange. Bucky did that stupid alpha head nod thing where he jerked his chin up at him and grinned. “Omegas, am I right?” he asked, again a bit too loud.

The stranger paused, gave a wane smile, a weak chuckle, and retreated. As soon as he was gone Bucky folded back into his usual self.

“That better?” he asked quietly, while Peter looked at him with his jaw on the floor. It’d been like watching a chameleon. A very large (and probably heavily armed) chameleon. He’d flashed a bright color and had scared the possible predator away. Just like that.

_ How the fuck did he DO that? _

“I... yes-” Peter said, and for reasons he couldn’t name, felt relieved that the man had gone.

Bucky nodded, and resumed his Watch.

After that, it was like a switch had been flipped in Peter’s brain.

_ How the fuck were there so many alphas? _

They were only supposed to be a fourth of the population. So why did it seem like every time Darcy turned a corner with her cart there was another fucking alpha?

He found himself walking through the store with his hood up and his shoulders hunched.

Darcy frowned at him the second time he nearly ran into her.

“_ Dude _\- it’s called personal space,” she admonished. “If you step on my heels I’m not getting you any Doritos,” she said.

“Sorry,” Peter said, flushed, and edged a smidgen away from her.

The clothing area was... sparse. But thankfully it was alpha-free. Darcy mostly just held things up to him and muttered to herself before either putting it back or in the cart. She got him some sweatpants, and another pair of basketball shorts. But none of the t-shirts there would fit him- they either had sleeves or the designers expected him to have wide shoulders.

“Come on- I think I know where to find stuff,” she said with a small smile, and led them to another corner of the store, where a large sign proclaimed it to be “the omega section.”

Peter balked. “Darcy-” he whined.

“Hush. You’re petite. Stuff here is made to fit small people like us-” she said dismissively. “And a tank top is a tank top.”

Well, it turned out that she was completely and utterly wrong because whoever had been making tank tops in the beta/alpha section were_ idiots _-

“It’s so..._ soft _ ,” Peter sighed, and rubbed the shirt all over his face. Holy shit, had he been missing out on this for his entire _ life _? What the hell were betas smoking? Why didn’t they want this?

“I _ told _ you,” Darcy said smugly. “How many colors do you want?”

“ALL OF THEM,” Peter said and instantly held it out to Bucky. “Bucky- Bucky- _ feel _this!” he insisted.

Bucky, fighting a smile, obediently felt the shirt. “It’s nice,” he agreed mildly.

Peter scowled at him like he’d just insulted Star Wars. “Darcy-” he complained. “Is he broken-”

Bucky choked and glared at him. “I am _ not _broken-”

“But this is _ amazing _ and you’re like you don’t even care-” Peter whined.

She snorted. “I don’t get it either. I think alphas just wired differently, that’s all-”

“Do they make PANTS out of this?” Peter demanded.

It turned out that, no, there were not sweatpants, but there were pants made out of something similar. Peter buried his face in them. “I want these-” he said earnestly.

Darcy hesitated. “Are you sure Peter? These are leggings honey. They don’t have pockets and you won’t be able to get them off and on until you get your casts off-”

Peter frowned. “No pockets?” he demanded, confused.

“They will probably make your ass look amazing, but I don’t know about your... ah- front bits,” Darcy said. “They’re... clingy.”

Peter considered them. On the one hand... get that fucking softness on his body NOW... on the other hand... he was a fan of you know, not having people stare at his dick. He stared at the leggings, brain churning furiously. On the other other hand... his suit wasn’t exactly modest either- and he had no problem swinging around the city in it.

“What if I wore like a long shirt with them?” he asked.

Darcy shrugged. “You could. I think it would look cute. But then you’d also be covering your butt too-”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t care about that-”

“You have anything other than boxers? You can’t wear boxers with these,” Darcy said thoughtfully, rummaging through sizes.

“I have some compression shorts,” he said. “I wear them with my suit.”

“That’ll be good.”

Darcy grabbed four sets of black leggings and put them in the cart. “I got a couple of sizes,” she said. “Whatever doesn’t fit we’ll return.”

“Are you about done here, sweetheart?” Bucky asked. He sounded bored.

“He needs some shampoo,” she said. “After that I think we’re done.”

It happened again in the shampoo aisle. Darcy took fucking forever to find her special whatever blend while Bucky did his usual guarding thing. Which helped. Some.

An alpha came along. This one was in a hurry and didn’t have a basket in his hands, but he was bigger. Taller. He came storming down the aisle and instead of pausing and giving Peter time to get out of the way, put a hand on his back and gently gave him a push.

“Coming though sweetheart,” he said, and gave Peter a stupid smarmy smile while Peter tried to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest. Bucky snarled at him. “Hey! Hands off!” he barked. The man just rolled his eyes and didn’t stop.

“You okay, Pete?” Bucky asked, alarmed.

Peter nodded, and tried to will himself to stop trembling. There was no reason for him to be freaking out like this. This was New York. He got nearly trampled on a daily basis anyway just trying to get off the damn subway, and it was just one alpha. He was FINE.

“What happened?” Darcy looked up, concerned.

“Some asshole just pushed Peter-” Bucky said, outraged.

“An alpha?” she asked.

Peter nodded.

She sighed. “It sucks but you’ll get used to it-”

“What the fuck do you mean, get used to it?” Bucky demanded.

She gave him a Look with a raised eyebrow. “Uh... alphas move omegas out of the way all the time? When I was younger it used to be a lot worse. But then I mastered my resting bitch face and people stopped,” she said and considered Peter.

“I don’t think you can pull off the ‘touch me and you’ll get tased in the balls’ look, though,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s the curse of your adorableness.”

Peter scowled at her.

"See?" she said to Bucky. "Not scary at all. It just makes me want to give him a juice box and a cuddle."

"Come 'ere," Bucky said and held an arm out. Peter hesitated but went to him. He couldn't help a small sigh of relief escaping as Bucky pulled him up against his side.

"I got you, okay?" he said quietly.

Peter nodded. Standing this close, Peter found both his presence and his scent comforting.

Darcy made her selections and put them in the cart. “I got you some stuff for curly hair,” she said. “When we get back, I’m throwing away your shampoo.”

Peter made a squawk of protest.

“No! No! You’ll thank me later once we get that frizz under control. No more sauve or whatever the fuck you’ve been using.”

“I like sauve!” Peter protested.

“Nope! Consider this an intervention!”

Peter sighed resignedly.

“It’s just shampoo, Pete,” Bucky said. “You can change back when you go back home,” he murmured. “In the meantime let her. She’s tryin’ to take care of you.”

"Okay," he grumbled.

"All done," Darcy said at last. "You wanted some Doritos kid?"

The food was upstairs. Peter didn't try to hide his nervousness anymore. He just walked behind Bucky and held onto the back of his hoodie with his free fingers.

The Doritos aisle, thankfully, was alpha free and Peter was able to pick out his cool ranch. Bucky, however, gave him a strict limit of 4 bags, much to Peter’s disappointment.

“One more? Please?”

“I’ll tell you what- you open one of these bags all by yourself and I’ll get you another one.”

Peter stared at the chip bags. Then down at his casts.

“You’re mean,” he complained.

“Not as mean as your Aunt is going to be if she finds out you’ve been living on shakes and chips,” Bucky said pointedly.

Peter grumbled but didn’t argue further.

Doritos successfully acquired, they headed for the checkout. Peter, buoyed by his excitement over the Doritos, didn’t even hold on to Bucky’s jacket as they walked to the checkout.

Not that he would have been able to hold onto Bucky anyway- he was bouncing on the balls of his feet and humming off key with bubbling excitement. He had 4 bags of Doritos. FOUR. And not just normal bags. He was getting four _ family sized _ bags of Doritos. The most his Aunt had ever let him have was two of the regular ones. He was going to _ feast _-

Bucky watched him with amusement as they stood in line. “You really like Doritos that much?”

“They’re my favorite! But they’re expensive so Aunt May won’t buy them. She gets the off brand ones- but they’re not as good,” Peter said, pulling a face. He hummed and bounced- then nearly fell out of his shoes, but corrected just in time.

“Peter?” Darcy asked sweetly.

“Hmm?”

“Can you go get me a snickers bar?” she asked.

“Sure.”

The candy aisle was right behind them.

“Wait- “ Bucky protested.

“It’s right there babe. He’ll be fine,” Darcy insisted. “Get me a king sized one and something for yourself,” she said.

Peter beamed at her. “Kay,” he said and did a sort of modified skip to stay in his shoes down the aisle. He made a point of stopping and waving exaggeratedly at a grumpy Bucky from halfway down the aisle, who rolled his eyes at him.

He got the snickers. He eyed the giant 2 pound “party bag” of Reese’s miniatures, and wondered how far he could stretch the definition of “something for himself”.

Maybe he should aim for the “party bag” of Peanut M&Ms?

“Hey-”

She didn’t say get “one thing” for himself. Just... “something.” Maybe if he got the smaller bags he could get one of each? He hummed as he considered, bouncing.

“Hey kid-”

On the other hand, there was a large bag of “fun sized” candy on the bottom shelf that had like a variety of-

A painful tingle at the back of his neck was the only warning he got as the alpha grabbed at his arm. Peter twisted away from him instinctively, so the man only got a hold of the coat instead of Peter’s cast. “Where the FUCK is your mother, omega?” he demanded, visibly angry.

Peter gaped up at him, eyes wide. He found it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Don’t you know how _ dangerous _ it is to be wandering off?” the alpha demanded. “There’s all sort of perverts out these days-”

“Let me go!” Peter demanded loudly, finally finding his voice. He tugged at the coat, but the alpha held fast.

“What the hell is going on here?” Bucky demanded, snarling, as he stormed down the aisle.

“Is this your pup?” the alpha demanded.

“He’s my nephew- let GO OF HIM.”

The man, seemingly unaware of just how close he was to losing an arm, continued. “She’s what- 12? You can’t let your baby omega just wander off like that,” he scolded, still not letting go of Peter. “Haven’t you seen the news? She’ll get snatched-”

Peter, panicking now, wrenched at the alpha’s grip, and got free. His momentum sent him backwards, and he staggered, fell out of his shoes, and landed painfully on the ground. There was a terrible cracking noise and Peter let out a horrible high-pitched whine of pain that ended with a sob.

Bucky swore passionately and dragged Peter so he was sitting upright, and started hastily stripping his coat off.

“Did you land on your arm?” he demanded, exposing the casts.

“_ Jesus Christ _ \- you let her leave the _ house _ like that?” the alpha demanded. “She’s indecent!”

Bucky stood and snarled at him. Actually physically snarled at him. “You have 10 seconds to get out of here before I rip your fucking arm off and beat you to death with it,” he rumbled, visibly towering over the other alpha.

The alpha paled, but snarled back. “She’s gonna get raped going around dressed like that-” he insisted.

“_HE _ is FINE,” Bucky said.

Peter, sniveling with pain and stress, looked down at his shirt. It was a wife beater undershirt. White. And yeah- it was big on him. It’d come from the clothes that Tony had bought him ages ago, well before he’d presented- and the man had bought them with the optimistic hope that Peter would grow into them as a beta with a late growth spurt. As such it gaped around his armpits and his chest- meaning the strange alpha could easily see his bare chest from his vantage point, Peter realized.

Suddenly self conscious, he covered his chest with his aching arms. He could feel himself flush, but he couldn’t tell with what. Shame? Humiliation? Both?

“What the fuck is going on over here?” Darcy demanded. “We’re next in line-” she cut off when she saw Peter on the floor. “HOLY SHIT!” She turned on the alpha- and where the fuck did she suddenly get a taser, Peter wondered almost absently.

“DID YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM?” she demanded, and thrust her taser literally an inch from his eyeballs. The alpha backpedaled. There were not very many things more violent and unpredictable than an omega protecting a pup.

“You shouldn’t let her wander-” he protested, but much more weakly this time.

Darcy pushed a button on the taser that made it spark. _ “I will fucking take your eyes out!” _ she screeched, practically vibrating with fury. It was possible that people on Mars heard her.

The alpha fled.

“Peter- sweetheart- are you alright?” Darcy asked, all sweetness and light. She knelt next to him. “What happened?”

“I fell,” Peter whined miserably.

“Fucker grabbed him and scared him,” Bucky growled. “Did you land on your arms?” he demanded, and moved to grab at Peter’s casts.

Peter flinched and whined. Bucky froze.

“Go get the cart,” Darcy said grimly.

“Peter-” Bucky sounded heart broken.

“GO TO THE CART,” Darcy hissed at him, and gave him a shove.

Bucky grit his teeth together, but grudgingly backed off.

“Hey- come here.” Darcy said, and carefully and slowly gathered him up to give him a hug. “It’s alright, honey. Shhhh...”

Peter breathed deeply of her scent, and tried to calm himself. After a long moment she pulled back. “Did you hit your head?” she asked firmly.

“No-”

“Are you sure?” she insisted, and ran a hand over the back of his head.

“I landed on my arm-” Peter complained. “It _ hurts _-”

“Which one?”

Peter held up his left arm. She examined the cast. She frowned and huffed. “You’ve cracked your cast honey,” she said. “Let me see the other one-”

He offered the other one, which she also examined. “This one looks fine. How’s your elbow? Can you bend it?”

Peter tried, experimentally. “It hurts,” he complained.

“Here- hold it against your chest- don’t move it. We’ll go get an x-ray-”

Peter groaned in complaint.

“Hush. Broken elbows are NOT to be fucked with- come on. Lets get checked out and go home,” she said, and gently helped him to his feet, making sure to tug only on his least mangled arm.

“Get your shoes,” she said softly, and Peter managed to get them back on while sniffling miserably. She gently draped the coat over his shoulders.

Together they walked back to the line, where they found Bucky checking out. He was visibly tense, and Peter could practically see a rage vein pulsing on his head like they did in cartoons. He found himself stalling out a good several feet away from the alpha. He started trembling again.

“Hey- cool it!” Darcy snapped at him. “You’re freaking everyone out-” she said and gathered Peter close.

Bucky took a breath. It didn’t seem to help.

“Go get the car, dude. I can _ smell _ how angry you are-” she said sharply.

He nodded robotically and stormed off. Peter found himself giving a shaky sigh after the alpha left.

“I’m _ so _ sorry,” she said the cashier. “My mate is having a bit of a moment-”

The cashier- a guarded blonde beta- eyed her worriedly. “Do you need a place to go, ma’am?” she asked quietly, looking pointedly at Peter and his casts. “I have a card with a woman’s name on it and a phone number that’s a good omega shelter-”

“No- no- it’s not that. Some idiot grabbed my nephew, scared him senseless and cracked his freakin’ cast-”

The cashier’s eyes grew wider. “Here? Do you want me to call security?” she asked, alarmed.

Darcy shook her head. “No- we just want to go home-”

“Of course- the only thing left to do is pay-”

They paid and left. Bucky was standing outside next to the car. He silently unloaded the cart into the car while Darcy got Peter settled inside.

“How’s your arm? It still hurt?”

Peter nodded.

“You want your spray?”

He considered.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” she said firmly.

“Darcy-” he protested, but without any real force behind it.

“Babe- Peter needs his spray-”

Bucky appeared, and dug the nose spray out of his back pocket. He shook it up. “Lean your head back honey,” he said quietly.

Peter obeyed. Bucky held his face with a hand and gave him a couple of squirts. Peter noticed that his movements were slow and deliberate. Like how you’d act around a wounded wild animal.

Peter sniffed deeply. And soon didn’t care about anything anymore.

*******

Bucky quickly scrambled to his feet as Steve and Tony descended on the MedBay like wrathful gods.

“Report Sergeant,” Steve barked aggressively, while Tony curled protectively around the teenager that was currently passed out on a gurney.

Bucky snapped to attention. “We went to Target. Darcy sent him to get some candy while we waited in line at the checkout. He never left my sight line. An unknown alpha grabbed him and was yelling at him when I intervened. Peter pulled loose and fell, landing on his arm. He cracked his left cast. We’re waiting for the x-ray results now.”

“Yelling at him? About what?” Tony demanded.

“Said it wasn’t safe for a baby omega to be ‘wandering around’ by themselves,” Bucky said. “He also commented on his clothes. Said he wasn’t decent. He thought he was a 12 year old girl.”

Steve sighed, and rubbed his face with a hand tiredly. “Saints preserve us,” he said.

“He was 20 feet away from me, max,” Bucky said miserably. “I... I don’t know what happened.” He relaxed a bit, now that it was obvious he wasn’t about to get punished for failing to guard his pack leader’s only pup.

“He needs training with Natasha, Steve. I know you wanted to wait until he was a bit older-” he hesitated, looking at the tiny boy on the gurney. “It’s bad,” he said quietly. “He’s downright _ skittish _in public. You know how that attracts the wrong sorts. At one point I felt like I was escorting a beta covered in sausages through a wolf den, not an omega at a fucking Target in New York.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully, his lips pressed into a thin line. “His Aunt-” he said guardedly.

“Fuck his Aunt,” Bucky snarled. “You didn’t see him Steve. He panicked. If he hadn’t been able to free himself, he would have hit that guy. Might have killed him- definitely would have broken the guy’s arm at least. You _ know _ how hard it is to control your strength when you’re panicking, and he didn’t even know how to get out of a simple hold. He NEEDS training.”

He paused. “Not that the idiot wouldn’t have deserved it, but Peter-”

“Peter would be upset that he hurt someone,” Steve said with a grimace.

“Did the doctor come back yet?” Darcy asked, entering the room with two cups. She gave one to Bucky.

“No,” Bucky said, and nodded in thanks at Darcy.

“Are you guys going to give him a taser?” she asked. “He needs one. I can give him one of my old ones-”

“Natasha will decide what he needs,” Steve said firmly. “As soon as the doctors give him an all-clear he’s going to start training.”

Darcy nodded. “Good. He needs... something. I don’t know. Poor kid almost had a panic attack just when that asshole touched him. That’s... well. He’s in for a rough time if he freaks out whenever a strange alpha touches him.”

“You mean the guy who grabbed him?” Tony demanded.

Darcy shook her head. “I was getting him some shampoo and some knothead was in a hurry. Pushed him a bit out of the way as he went past. By my standards, it was pretty low on the scale of things- he didn’t even make a comment about boobs or anything- but Peter freaked out anyway.”

“Wait- what-” Tony protested. “Since when is that ‘low on the scale’?” he demanded.

She frowned at him. “Dude. Alphas are just... handsy with omegas. It’s like a fact of life. You probably never had to deal with it because you take scent blockers and look like a male beta. But Peter-” she shrugged. “He’s _ too _ adorable, man. I’m not surprised he nearly got snatched at that WalMart. I’m just surprised that that was the first time someone tried, honestly.”

Steve sighed, and rubbed his face some more. Tony, meanwhile, looked like he had swallowed something foul.

“His Aunt said he’d been having trouble at school with some people- bullies,” he said suddenly.

Darcy nodded. “Probably Flash.”

“Who?” Steve demanded.

“An alpha. Kid says he hangs around his locker and stares at him sometimes. Puts his hands on him,” Bucky rumbled, angry.

“He’s a stupid football player with brain damage who can’t even tie his shoes,” Darcy said snidely. “He’s not as big a threat as you’re thinking.”

Tony snarled. “Brain damage just means he’s more unpredictable-”

“It’s a _ high school _, Tony. Relax. If it wasn’t Flash, it’d be someone else. There’s always at least one alpha that hangs around and acts all creepy, even before you present. I think it’s like an instinct thing or something. They don’t know how to handle- I don’t know- their alphaness or something yet. It’s a part of growing up.”

“I was _ never _creepy-” Bucky snipped.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? Remember when you scared me half to death the other day when I was brushing my teeth? I nearly bit the toothbrush in half when I turned around and found you standing in the doorway staring at me like some sort of steak dinner-”

“You thought that was creepy?” Bucky asked, dumbfounded.

“YES,” she said, and swatted his arm. “Sneaking up on me, then hovering right where you know the mirror won’t show me your reflection- DUDE. A little less tiger stalking his prey would be nice.”

“I was just admiring the view of my mate-” Bucky complained.

“While I was_ brushing my teeth? _”

“Steve-” Bucky appealed.

Steve coughed. “I ah... no comment,” he said brusquely.

Tony snorted.. “Smart move,” he said sarcastically. “He did the same damn thing to me this morning,” he explained to Darcy, who rolled her eyes.

“Alphas-” Darcy muttered darkly.

A doctor with a clipboard bustled in, and everyone snapped to attention. The beta smiled up at them. “Well- I can say that I have nothing but good news!” he chirped. “He’s got a bit of a bruise on his elbow, and a crack in his cast, but that’s about it. Also- his fingers look like they’re healed up nicely. We’re going to replace his casts tomorrow afternoon, and free them up.”

They all visibly relaxed.

“Are you going to replace his cast now?” Tony demanded.

The doctor shook his head. “It’ll hold until tomorrow, and we want to give his fingers another day just to be on the safe side. So we’ll just wait.”

“What about his arms?” Steve asked.

“They are well on their way- but it will probably be another week at least. We’ll x-ray him again on Tuesday to check to see how he’s doing. He’s also cleared to go home. Now if you’ll excuse me I have paperwork to fill out,” he said and left.

Darcy eyed Tony. “What are you going to tell his Aunt?” she asked.

Tony sighed. “He fell at Target but didn’t hurt himself seriously,” he said finally. “And- I’m going to put my foot down here- I don’t want him out of my Tower for any reason until he starts training with Natasha. _ Every _ time he goes out there’s some sort of disaster-”

“He’s not gonna like that,” Steve said neutrally.

“Well he can suck it up,” Tony said. “Bucky was- what- you said 20 feet from him? And he _ still _got grabbed-”

“He argued with me too, didn’t back off until Darcy threatened to put his eyes out with her taser,” Bucky grumbled. “Self-righteous prick-”

Tony shuddered. “Well that makes it official. He’s staying in- I don’t even want him going to the public levels without an escort-”

“You’re gonna have to be one to tell him,” Bucky said. “He’s going to be pissed.”

“His casts are coming off his fingers, and it’s been a few days since his concussion. I’ll... keep him busy in the labs or something. Did you hear that Jarvis? I’m restricting his access.”

There was a moment of silence. “Access restricted,” Jarvis said eventually. “Authorization or escort is required for Peter Parker to access public levels.”

“And I want him with us tonight-” Tony said to Steve. “I...”

“Hey- it’s okay. I understand,” Steve said, and brushed a hand through Tony’s hair. “You want him close. I get it.”

“I don’t want him out of my_ sight _,” Tony complained.

“I’ll tell you what- I’ll take him up, and you can lay with him for a bit while I call May,” Steve said softly.

Tony nodded.

“We’ll take him tonight- but you’ll need to take him back tomorrow night-” Steve said. Tony made a noise of protest. “We have your gala, remember?” Steve said.

Tony sighed. “Fine,” he said. He didn’t sound happy about it.

“We can do that,” Bucky said.

“Hey- we’ll have a good afternoon tomorrow,” Darcy said. “Spa day, remember?”

“That does sound nice. Peter will like it, I think,” Tony said, and pet Peter’s hair as the boy slept. “And I did say no alphas-” he said thoughtfully.

“There you go. He’ll be on the roof drinking virgin mimosas with Natasha and us,” Darcy said. “You can’t get safer than that.”

Tony nodded, then narrowed his eyes at Steve. “No alphas includes you Steve,” he said. “You too Bucky-”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “I can’t get a massage too?” he mock whined.

“No.”

Buck snorted. “We’ll live. I don’t think we finished doing the inventory on the armory the other day-”

Steve heaved a sigh. “Right... is Sam back Jarvis?”

“Sam Wilson returned to the tower an hour ago,” Jarvis replied.

“Good, he can help,” Steve said. “You ready to go babe?” he asked.

Tony reluctantly got up. “Sure. Take him.”

Steve scooped up the boy. “See you tomorrow Buck,” he said.

Bucky nodded back, and watched them leave, then turned to Darcy and gave her a searing kiss. “You going after that alpha was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen-” he growled into her ear.

Darcy giggled. “Then take me home soldier,” she said coyly and batted her eyelashes at him. “Because I have some other things I think you’d like to see-”

Bucky didn’t even reply- he just growled and tossed her over his shoulder. She squeaked.

“Bucky!” she protested, and smacked his back. “Put me down!” she protested, laughing.

He ignored her, and took her home, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Being an omega comes with all sorts of dangers they don’t warn you about in Sex-Ed. Like handsy sexist alphas. But it’s something he’s going to have to learn to deal with. 
> 
> But hey- Peter’s going to be able to use his fingers soon! YAY! Also- next chapter is the Pool Party! 
> 
> * I did some quick research for this chapter. Steve and Bucky are “The Greatest Generation” because they were born 1920ish. Tony (in my story anyway) is a Millennial. Peter, of course, is Gen Z.


	37. Enjoying the High Life III - Spa Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Not even I was expecting another trip to feelingsville, but here we go. Peter, I think, has been very patient so far. But everyone has their breaking point. And I think we’re just about to find his... 
> 
> The good news is that everything is always better after a good cry. 
> 
> Tags:  
Fluff. Marshmallow grade fluff. Seriously. It’s 30+ pages of eyebrow threading, manicures, haircuts and serious snuggling. Don’t look at me! I don’t know why it’s 30+ pages either!

“Good Morning. It is 9am. It is Saturday, April the 20th, and it is currently 75 degrees and sunny with a predicted high of 81.”

Peter grunted. Who the fuck was talking? He was _ warm _ and _ comfy_, damnit. The world could go fuck itself today.

“Sir has three appointments today, the first being a Spa day starting at 10:30 am. Your stylist will arrive at 5:45 and the gala is at 7 pm.”

“Jarvis-” Peter bitched. “Go away,” he said into a pillow.

“No- he’s right,” Tony muttered into his ear. “We need to get up and take showers.”

Neither omega made a move to get up. Instead Peter just sighed and leaned back into Tony, who held him a little bit tighter and buried his nose a little bit deeper into Peter’s neck.

“_Good morning _. It is currently 9:20 am. It is Saturday, April the 20th, and it is currently 76 degrees and sunny with a predicted high of-”

“We got it the first time, Jarvis,” Tony said snidely. “No need to get all uppity about it.”

“Sir, your event is scheduled to start in an hour. You have already slept through one alarm. If you continue to lay in bed I will be forced to initiate the ‘Wake Up Already Protocol’-”

“No- no! We’re up! I promise- we’re up!” Tony said hastily and started to move to get out of bed.

“What’s the ‘wake up already protocol’?” Peter asked sleepily.

“It involves sirens and a really bright light,” Tony grumbled.

Peter put a pillow over his head.

“Come on- we need to change your patch-” Tony said. “And hose you down. Can’t get pedicures and stuff while you stink. It’s rude.”

Peter grumbled, and moved to stretch-

“Nope! None of that either!” Tony barked, pinning his arms to the bed. “You’ll just smack yourself, remember?”

Peter blinked. Oh. Right. He whined. “I have to stretch, Tony- my back aches.”

“That’s what the massages will be for later.”

Peter grumbled, and settled for arching his back and stretching his toes. It wasn’t nearly the same. It felt like it had been ages since he’d stretched properly- and even longer since he’d had a real, proper swing through the city. He swore his joints ached a bit from disuse.

“Sir, Lady Barnes wishes to join you in the Penthouse. She says she has a delivery.”

“Let her up J,” Tony said, finally getting out of bed. “Go sit by the island for a minute. I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

Peter grumbled, but obeyed, dragging himself out of bed.

A minute or so later, the door to the elevator opened and Darcy stepped out, carrying a box.

“Time to change your patch,” she said.

Peter sighed, but held still as she lifted up his shirt and ripped the old one off.

Tony joined them just as she was peeling off the paper backing of the new one.

“Where are you supposed to put them anyway?” he asked.

“His upper back. Switch sides between each application,” she said. “Hold his shirt for me?”

Tony obliged, and she put the new one on. “There we go-” she said, pressing down on it. Peter grunted and shivered a bit- the patch made his skin tingle.

“I also brought your bottoms-” she said, and dug out the bikini bottom from the box.

Tony’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “What the fuck is THAT?”

“They’re Peter’s-”

“Like _ hell _ they are-”

She gave him a Look. “It’s fine! It covers all his bits! He wore it yesterday when I gave him a shower-”

Peter sniffed. “It’s fine. They’re not that bad.”

“And it’s not like there’s going to be any alphas there today. Just us and the beauticians, right? I also got him a robe-” she dug a white terry cloth robe out of the box. “So he won’t get cold. But he’s going to need his bottoms to sun properly. Unless you have a pair of board shorts he can borrow-”

Tony froze for a second, then scowled. “No, I don’t,” he said, and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll allow it. But if you go to a public pool I want you wearing proper swim trunks or something-”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes _ mom_,” he mocked. Tony, for some reason, went pale and sputtered. Peter ignored it. The omega was always so dramatic.

“Did you bring my toothbrush?” he asked anxiously.

She dug some more, and produced one.

“Sweet,” Peter said, and headed for the bathroom. His teeth were fucking disgusting.

He quickly realized he couldn’t hold the toothbrush and squeeze the toothpaste at the same time.

Okay. No big deal. Just... put the toothbrush on the sink and squeeze some on. Problem solve Parker! Now just open the toothpaste-

Then he stared at the cap. The tiny itty bitty toothpaste cap. It was the screw on kind. It mocked him.

He took a breath. Not the end of the world. There was another tube in the medicine cabinet. Just use that one. Keep calm and all that. Starving kids in Africa, etc.

He managed to pick it up. It too had a screw on cap.

“GOD DAMN IT!” the toothpaste got hurled against the nearest wall, followed closely by an incredible sense of shame. He shouldn’t have done that. He couldn’t lose his temper. He might hurt someone-

“Peter?!” The door to the bathroom was wrenched open, and Tony and Darcy stumbled in to find Peter curled miserably on the floor in a corner of the bathroom.

Peter hid his face in his knees, and whimpered.

“Did you fall? Are you alright?” Tony demanded, and started frantically running his hands over Peter’s head.

Peter sniffed. “I... I couldn’t get the cap off the toothpaste,” he said wretchedly. “I... I lost my temper,” he said into his knees, flushing bright with fresh shame.

“You didn’t fall?” Tony demanded.

Peter shook his head, and felt tears run down his face.

Tony let out a long sigh of relief and sat on the floor next to him. “Come here,” he said, and gathered Peter close.

“I’m sorry-” Peter said softly.

“It’s fine. It’s just toothpaste,” Tony said dismissively. “You didn’t hit the wall again, did you?”

Peter shook his head again.

“Good. That’s fine-”

“I... I just wanted to brush my teeth-” Peter complained.

“I can help you-”

“I DON’T WANT HELP!” Peter exploded, then immediately hunched back in on himself and whined.

“Sir, do you require the assistance of an alpha?” Jarvis asked from the ceiling.

And- _ oh _. Did that make Peter cringe. Did Jarvis think he was a threat to Tony?

“No! We’re fine-” Tony said, backing off from Peter, giving him some space.

“Peter- listen-” Darcy said intently, getting on her knees so she was on his level. “It’s just until this afternoon, okay?”

“What?”

“They’re going to change your casts today- later this afternoon. Free up your fingers,” Darcy said.

“Can’t they do it now?” Peter whined.

“They want to give your fingers some extra time to make sure they’re healed,” Tony said. “She’s right. You only have to get through today, okay?”

Peter took a breath. One more day. He could do that- he went to wipe the tears from his face- and promptly hit himself with a cast. Right in the eye.

It was the last straw.

“Oh- for Christ’s sake-” Tony hissed as he gathered up the now sobbing teenager. “Shh... Darcy- get me some tissues or something-”

“I’m on it-” she said, and left.

“I... I want- to go back to... to bed,” Peter sobbed.

“Hey- hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to go. But I think it’ll be fun,” Tony said. “We’re going to do facemasks and pedicures. And you’ll get a haircut. And a massage. Then we’re going to lay in the sun and eat chocolate dipped strawberries. You want to lay in the sun with me and Natasha? And Darcy? It’s going to be warm out today.”

Peter sniffed miserably. “I’m hungry-” he complained into Tony’s shoulder.

“And there’ll be food there. I promise- I’m having it catered-”

“I can’t use my hands-” Peter complained bitterly. “I can’t have _ any _ of it!”

“Then we’ll feed you,” he said instantly. “You can pretend to be one of those snobbish Egyptian princes or something for the day. You like peeled grapes?”

Peter sniffed. “You can peel grapes?” he asked, confused.

“You sure can,” the man said, then hesitated. “To be honest I’ve never had one. Don’t know if they taste different than regular ones. But- hey! We can try today- you want to find out?”

Darcy returned, and handed Tony a box of tissues. The omega gently wiped Peter’s face.

“I was just telling Peter he could be an Egyptian Prince for the day- he wouldn’t have to lift so much as a finger-”

Darcy considered. “That sounds awesome. Peeled grapes and everything?”

“Yep.”

“Never had one, but I think they’ll be fun to try,” Darcy agreed amicably.

Peter took a breath. Or tried to. It came out as a hiccuping sob. “I... I can’t... I can’t stop-”

“Hey- it’s okay. Don’t fight it. Just... let it out. It’ll stop when it stops,” Darcy said and rubbed his leg. “If you fight it it’ll just go on longer, alright?”

Peter nodded.

It took 10 minutes and Tony showing him videos of cats knocking things off tables on his phone before the tears stopped.

“I’m going to go take a shower and get changed,” Darcy said. “You want me or Tony to help you?”

“Tony,” Peter said, still sounding a bit snively.

“Okay. See you in a bit, kiddo,” Darcy said kindly and gave him a peck on the forehead then left.

“After we shower, you want to call your Aunt?” Tony asked as he helped peel Peter’s clothes off.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed.

Tony’s shower was big, just like Darcy’s was. There was even a stone bench for him to sit on. They didn’t bother with swim trunks or anything since it was just the two of them, and it was only a little weird for the first couple of minutes.

Which, honestly was a bit insane, Peter thought as he watched Tony lather up his right leg with a washcloth. A month ago, if someone had told him that he’d be fine with Iron Man scrubbing him down in the shower like a pup he would have laughed in their face and asked what they were high on.

But... here he was. The man even brushed his teeth for him when they discovered Peter couldn’t angle the toothbrush to brush his front teeth without some serious neck contortions.

And it was... nice. Almost. Barely. (If he wasn’t scheduled to get the casts off today he’d definitely be in the workshop right now trying to get U to help him buzz saw his way to freedom. Dum-E, as usual, would be on fire prevention.)

At least the hot water and Tony giving his face a wipe down meant it wasn’t super obvious he’d nearly had a mental breakdown this morning.

Eventually, thankfully, they were done and Tony helped him put his bottoms on.

“Go get your robe and call your Aunt. I think there will be nicer robes when we get there, but I don’t want you catching cold,” Tony admonished.

Peter obeyed. At least the robe he could manage with a little difficulty. Turning his phone on was another challenge- he had to manhandle it a bit to get it to where he could use the two free fingers on his left hand to press the button on the side to turn the silly thing on.

After that it was easy enough to find his aunt’s phone number. Thank god he still had an index finger free to press the buttons with.

She answered after only a few rings. “Peter?” she asked. She sounded a little breathless.

“Hey May,” he said. Now that he had her on the phone he suddenly had no idea what to say to her. “I- um... I know it’s been a while since I called-” he said lamely. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s alright! I’m just so glad to hear from you! I heard you fell at Target last night?”

Peter blinked, and felt his throat constrict. He could remember the alpha gripping onto his jacket with all too perfect clarity. “Yeah. I-I fell,” he said.

“Steve didn’t say why- what happened?”

Peter considered the ground. “I... my shoes. I was wearing Darcy’s shoes and... I fell. Out them. Slipped I mean. Bucky- Bucky was getting me Doritos and I-”

“Got overexcited?” May asked wryly.

“Yeah. Overexcited.”

“Why weren’t you wearing your shoes?” she asked.

Peter shrugged, then realized she couldn’t see him. “I left them somewhere. I- it doesn’t matter.”

“Did you at least get some good sleep last night?” she asked.

Peter opened his mouth. The phrase “I slept with Steve and Tony last night” thankfully died before it could come out. Would she understand that it was a comfort thing? And not... weird? Him sleeping in the same bed as grown adults... _ cuddling _ with them... Especially like how he did with Tony-

Jesus Christ, it made them sound like... pedos. But it wasn’t like that _ at all _. It was like the complete opposite of that in every way possible.

_ It was a pack thing- she wouldn’t get it. _The realization was... a little sad. It was another thing he couldn’t talk to her about. Like being Spider-Man.

“I slept fine,” he said. Which was true.

“You sound a little off. Is everything alright?”

“I- I’m fine-”

“_Peter- _” May said in her special “you are the worst liar I’ve ever met” tone.

Peter sighed. “I...” he searched for a safe answer to give her.

“Peter?” Fuck, now she sounded alarmed.

“I’m fine-” he insisted.

“He’s had a bit of a rough morning, that’s all,” Tony said loudly as he opened up the fridge. He’d changed into a robe.

Peter glared at him. He couldn’t hold the phone so he’d put it on speaker. He hadn’t intended for that to be an invitation to join in- but as usual, Tony did whatever the hell he wanted.

“Tony?” May asked, startled.

“Yeah- sorry- the kid has you on speaker. We had some problems holding a toothbrush this morning. But he had a good cry about it, and he’s better now.”

“Tony!” Peter protested.

“He had a problem holding a toothbrush?” she sounded puzzled.

“He has casts on his arms. From the MRI accident? They cover most- actually almost all- of his fingers. I thought we told you that?”

“You told me he had casts on his arms Tony- but his _ fingers_?”

“The good news is that the doctors will be taking the ones he has off this afternoon and putting new ones on so that he can you know- hold stuff again.”

“Oh god- Peter- are you coping okay? Do I need to come down and help you shower or something?”

Peter cringed. “No- we- we’ve managed,” he said. “But... I could use my clothes?”

“I know- I’m sorry- I’ve been so busy at work. I’ve got a suitcase packed. I’ll bring it by later today-”

“If you come by at around 5ish, you can sit and have an early dinner thing with us,” Tony said. “Me and Steve are going to a gala tonight, but we always eat a bit before we go. The portions are always too small for him- I think we’re having... I don’t know actually. Jarvis?”

“Roast chicken and mashed potatoes with a vegetable medley, sir,” Jarvis said.

“There you go. Chicken.”

“I can stop in for a bit- but... I’m actually meeting up with a friend tonight for dinner-” she said.

“That’s fine,” Tony said. Peter frowned at him. He knew that tone. It was the one he used to talk to vendors on the phone. “But can you do me a favor? Can you bring his suit over? I’m gonna make some improvements to it.”

‘Oh- ah- sure. I can do that.”

“That’s great,” Tony said and checked his watch. “Look, I hate to rush you off, but we’re due upstairs in just a few minutes for a team building thing. Peter- tell your Aunt you love her-”

“Love you May-”

“Oh- love you too, Peter- I’ll see you later today.”

“I’ll see you,” Peter said. “Bye-”

Tony pressed the button that hung up the phone. Peter frowned at him. “Team building thing?”

“Pack bonding,” Tony said, and waved a hand vaguely. “Same thing. You want some juice?”

“Sure,” Peter said, and watched him carefully as the man poured him a glass. Tony was... hard to read sometimes. His moods were flighty things- there one second, something else the next. And with no scent- keeping track was like trying to calculate swinging vectors with moving walls. Was the man angry? Peter couldn’t think of a reason why he’d be- and yet... his tone...

“You want a straw?” Tony asked.

“Yes please,” Peter said as Tony started to hunt for one.

“Why do you wear scent blockers?” Peter blurted.

“Well-” Tony said thoughtfully. “I need to pass as a Beta, kid. I thought you knew that-”

“No. I mean. You’re home? But...” Peter fumbled, then flushed. Like this was any of his business to begin with-

Tony considered him. Peter could almost see his brain flipping into gear. “You mean- why do I hide even when we’re safe?” he said eventually, sliding the glass complete with a straw over to Peter.

“I guess? I just... I mean- I can’t smell you and-” he stopped, and drank his juice to keep his mouth from spouting more nonsense.

Tony walked around to stand next to him. He leaned easily against the island. “Does it bother you that you can’t Scent me?” he asked seriously.

Peter flushed harder. “What? No-” he lied. Badly.

Tony sighed and sat in a chair, and stared intently at a wall. Peter waited, not sure he’d get an answer.

“So... a lot if it has to do with... habit, I guess-” he said finally. “I could have looked into ways of modifying my scent- making it smell like I was an alpha- and yes- there’s ways of doing that. Bruce is working on figuring out a way for you that doesn’t involve pills- but... Alphas don’t make good scientists. Or scientists that people take seriously anyway. And I wanted that- for people to take me seriously. So I took scent blockers.” The man paused.

“But... why at home?” Peter asked.

Tony sighed again. But it was heavier this time. “To be honest- I don’t smell that good Pete. Not like yours. You really won the lottery, you know that?”

Peter stared at him, horrified. “You don’t smell good? But- omegas always smell like flowers and fruits-”

“Traditionally, yes. But _ you _ smell like cinnamon rolls-” Tony’s smile was sad. “You have no idea how happy I was when I came off that elevator and Scented you- I knew you wouldn’t be able to take scent blockers-”

Peter frowned at him. “Well, I don’t care. I don’t think it can be _ that _ bad. I’d like you no matter how you smelled,” he said loyally.

Tony stood and ruffled his hair. “Thanks kid. I’ll have to remember that- I’ll be sure to double check on that next time Fury sends us down into the sewers-”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Tony!” he protested.

“Come on- bring your juice- I need to do a final check on the vendors upstairs before we get this brunch started.”

They took the elevator. “Can’t we just... go up some stairs?” Peter asked, confused. “I thought the penthouse was the top floor.”

“It is the top floor. But it has a high ceiling and we had to make room for the pool- and I didn't want stairs for the security concerns. The elevator doors are reinforced up there.”

“But you have that balcony-”

“And that glass is bullet-proof,” Tony said. “Don’t want someone sniping at me while I’m walking around in my boxers, yeah?”

Peter’s eyes grew wide. “Has that happened before?”

“No. But- and I really want to stress this- you are safe here, okay? Don’t worry about it. I took care of most of it when I built the place- and Steve and Bucky have doubled down on all the things I didn’t think of. Alright?”

Peter nodded, and drank his juice. He’d never been on the roof before. He wasn’t sure what to expect.

The elevator door opened. Tony stepped out and Peter followed close behind. A number of people who’d been milling about either milled faster or snapped to attention.

A canvas awning stretched out from the elevator to one side of the pool. Underneath it a long table was filled with finger foods and there were some very expensive chairs that looked like they’d be transplanted straight from a nail salon. By the poolside, several extra wide pool chairs had been put out in the sun. And a large mysterious tent was set up on what Peter guessed was an empty helipad.

The pool- well. It wasn’t Olympic sized. He was a little disappointed by that. But still- it was a decent sized lap pool. And there was a hot tub in a corner. So that was nice.

“Go sit in the sun for a minute and finish your juice,” Tony said.

So Peter did. Tony didn’t say that he couldn’t sit in the sun while also watching him, so he dragged a deck chair around with his foot and watched as Tony interrogated the beauty people as to the exact contents of the products they were using.

“I’ve got a guest with allergies,” he said. “Just give me a quick rundown of what’s in all this stuff-”

It was interesting. There were lots of things like honey and oats and ... mud?

“And this one?” Tony pointed at a container.

“That is a treatment for acne. It has honey, yogurt and aspirin-”

“I’m sorry- _ aspirin_?”

“Yes- crushed up it’s very good for exfoliating-”

“Get rid of it. Aspirin is on the no-no list.”

“Of course-” the man sputtered. The container was quickly whisked away.

“I asked for herbal treatments. Is there any other over the counter medication or chemicals in any of this stuff?”

The man considered. “This treatment has some baking soda in it-”

“Is that something you cook with?”

“Absolutely!”

“Then it’s fine. The rest should be good.”

Tony wandered over to the food area and asked for a small bowl of peeled grapes to be prepared and to ask where the chocolate covered strawberries were.

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark- we have standing orders to not provide strawberries-”

Tony frowned for a second. “Oh- yes. Because Pepper was allergic. Well, she’s not here and I want strawberries. So- make it happen. Regular and chocolate covered- Harry’s Berries of course-”

More scrambling as people moved to make it happen. Tony ignored them, picked up a plate and filled it with pieces of fruit, then walked over to Peter and perched himself on Peter’s chair.

“You ever have dragonfruit before, kid?”

Peter shook his head.

“Here- try some. It’s the white stuff with black specks-”

Peter carefully selected a piece off the tray. It smelled... fruity? He popped it in his mouth and gave a thoughtful chew. He wrinkled his nose.

“You don’t like it?”

“It tastes alright... the texture’s kinda weird-”

“Mango?” Tony asked.

Peter ate that with a pleased hum. “Are they really going to get strawberries?” he asked.

“Yep. Any other requests?”

“Do they have pears?”

They did. They even cut them up for him when Peter confessed he wasn’t sure he could hold one and take bites from it at the same time. He happily bounced back to his chair with Tony following behind carrying a plate full of cut up pears and peeled orange segments.

They sat in the sun together on the lounge chair eating fruit while people buzzed around behind them setting things up.

It was... peaceful in a way. But Peter felt weird just sitting there while everyone else worked doing... things.

“How do you just sit here?” Peter asked.

“Hmm? What do you mean?” Tony asked, munching on an orange slice.

“Not helping set up- all of that?” Peter asked.

“Hmm... I dunno. Why? If I helped I’d just get in the way Pete. Plus, I _ paid _ them to set things up for me. Would you pay a hairdresser and try to help her cut your hair?”

Peter frowned a bit. “Well- no.”

“Same thing. Let them be. If it bothers you we can go back inside-”

“No! I like sitting in the sun-”

“Am I early?” Darcy asked as she stepped out of the elevator.

“Not really. Help yourself to some fruit and come take a seat,” Tony said.

She joined them a minute later with her own plate. “No strawberries?” she asked.

“They’re working on it,” Tony said.

Natasha joined them a few minutes later. “I have high expectations here Tony,” she warned. Her eyes were dancing a bit so Peter figured she was just playing.

“I have a full schedule planned,” Tony said proudly.

It started fairly straight forward enough. They sat in the special chairs with robes on while a team of people smeared strange stuff all over their faces. Peter picked a charcoal mask followed by some sort of rose petal and yogurt concoction. They soaked their feet and hands (or at least everyone else did. Peter just soaked his feet) while they waited for the masks to dry.

“Are you going to paint your nails Tony?” Peter asked. It’d been several minutes and his right leg was threatening to start shaking again.

“Hmm. Maybe. I was thinking a dark blue to go with my shirt,” he said. The older omega was laying back with slices of cucumber balanced on his face. Peter eyed him.

“Do you think he’ll sit still for the entire treatment?” he stage-whispered to Natasha, who sat on his other side.

She snorted. “Probably not.”

“Hey- one- I can totally hear you- and two- I am currently working on a circuit board design right now in my head,” Tony rebutted. “And three- this is not my first rodeo.”

Peter watched his leg, but the omega somehow managed to lay still. A thought occurred to him.

“Wait- are you seriously still going to wear that shirt?”

“Yep.”

Peter huffed. “I thought you had to wear like a tux-”

“I’m going to wear it instead of the white shirt part,” Tony said, nonplussed.

“What are you wearing instead of a white tux shirt?” Natasha asked.

“Rainbow vomit,” Peter said snidely.

“A very_ tasteful _paisley shirt,” Tony said firmly, ignoring Peter.

Natasha frowned. Darcy lifted a cucumber slice to give them some serious side-eye action from her chair.

“Paisley?” Darcy demanded. “Like... all over paisley?”

“It’s blue- it’s fine,” Tony insisted.

“Don’t you have like... a stylist or something that dresses you?” Natasha asked.

“He’s coming at 5:45,” Tony said.

“And did you ask his opinion about this... ‘shirt’?” Natasha asked. Peter could hear the air quotes.

“He’ll have something. He always does,” Tony said. “If he doesn’t I can find something in my closet.”

“If the reporters say it’s ugly he has to do some swinging,” Peter said smugly. “_And _ I get to film him falling on his face. I’m gonna put it on youtube.”

There was a moment of silence. “Swinging- as in... on a swing set?” Natasha asked. She sounded as if she knew that wasn’t the right answer, but was holding out hope anyway.

“Nope.” Peter said, popping the P. He had to make an effort not to cackle evilly.

“Tony!” Natasha scolded, removing her cucumber to glare at him. “What have I told you about actively trying to kill yourself?”

“It’ll be FINE- besides it’s not going to happen. There’s nothing wrong with that shirt,” Tony said calmly.

“Steve’s not going to like it-” Natasha said ominously.

“First of all, it’s not going to happen so there’s no need to tell him. Second of all- I didn’t take you as a snitch, Widow,” Tony snipped back.

She snorted. “I only snitch when I’m playing both sides,” she said. “Or when I’d rather not be thrown against a wall by an angry super soldier.”

“Oh hush,” Tony said. “No one’s going to be slammed into anything.”

“Maybe we should do it over a pool. So you don’t break anything when you land on your ass,” Peter said thoughtfully.

Tony snorted. “Any progress on that speech kid?” he asked.

“What speech?” Darcy asked.

“If the reporters like my shirt Peter has to do a speech about how much he loves and admires me,” Tony said. “I expect nothing less than an oscar-worthy performance filled with raw emotion.”

“Haven’t even started,” Peter said. “Don’t need to-”

“Aw... you really love me that much?” Tony snarked.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me ‘okay boomer’ you again, old man.”

Natasha choked a bit, then wheezed out a laugh while Tony snarled slightly. Darcy giggled.

“You... okay boomer’d Tony?” Natasha demanded.

“He won’t accept that paisley is rainbow vomit,” Peter complained.

“There’s_ nothing _ wrong with that shirt-” Tony insisted.

“Alright, enough!” Natasha declared. “Relax. You’re damaging the zen of the day.”

Tony huffed, but quieted. Peter yawned.

They scrubbed faces and changed masks then got manicures and pedicures. Peter, unable to pick between red and blue got both- and wound up with nearly star spangled toes.

“Man- that is not what I envisioned,” Peter complained. The red and blue looked nice, but when it alternated (one toe red, one toe blue) like that it reminded him of Steve’s suit.

“You want to change colors?” the lady asked.

Peter sighed. “Nah, it’s fine. It’ll like wear off or whatever.”

Darcy and Natasha exchanged Looks.

“What?”

“Peter- toe colors can last months-” Natasha explained patiently.

Peter snorted. “It’ll be fine,” he said dismissively, not believing a word. Months? Impossible*.

“If you say so, dude,” Darcy said, amused.

“Mr. Stark- Carmina and Jasmine are ready to see you now,” a red headed beta in what looked like black scrubs said.

“Great. Anyone else getting waxed today?”

“There’s waxers?” Darcy asked, sounded excited.

“In the tent. Full service- whatever you want.”

“Oooh- I might take you up on that-” Darcy said.

Natasha considered her legs. “I think I’m good,” she said.

“Waxing?” Peter asked, confused.

“They use wax and some cloth to rip the hair out of your legs,” Natasha said.

“And other places,” Darcy said.

Peter stared at them. “Other places?” he asked. “What- WHY?”

“Alphas like smooth legs,” Natasha said.

“Really?” Peter asked, and instantly inspected his legs. They weren’t... well. He wasn’t hairy. Not really. More... fuzzy?

“Don’t listen to her,” Darcy said. “Screw what alphas want. The REAL reason to shave your legs is so that when you get into bed and rub your legs against the sheets it’s like heaven.”

Natasha hummed. “Forgot about that,” she said. “That’s always nice.”

“And- I don’t know if anyone’s mentioned this- but a good trim of your undercarriage right before your heat really helps with cleanup. Always trim like a few days beforehand.”

Natasha nodded in agreement.

Peter stared at the pool. Undercarriage?

Oh.

OH.

Oooooh.

That actually... made a lot of sense. But...

“Like.. with scissors?” he asked, still feeling a bit horrified. He had a feeling that would be... dangerous.

Both girls choked.

“Oh honey- no. No no no no,” Darcy said urgently. “They make like little electric trimmers these days. Very safe. No nicks. Remind me and we’ll look up something for you on Amazon later.”

Peter sighed heavily. “Being an omega is weird,” he complained. “And hard. No-one tells me _ anything _-” he complained.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Natasha said. “Or at least- that’s what Darcy’s here for.”

Darcy snorted. “I don’t mind. Come at me bro. I lived in a dorm with mormon omegas from Utah for three years, and THEN I lived with Jane. I’ve heard it ALL.”

Natasha frowned. “Where IS Jane? I thought you were going to drag her out of her lab?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Some sort of super scientist conference over skype about something that’s and I quote: ‘been booked for months’ when she’s only ever mentioned it within the last two days. I suspect bullshit. But- I lack proof. I’m gonna have to go through her lab while she’s sleeping to see if she’s existing on only ramen and crying about Thor again,” she said, and sighed deeply. “I swear I take my eyes off that woman for 2 seconds and she just spirals into this science/depression funk thing. I need to download Tinder on her phone again.”

“You should have dragged her out anyway,” Natasha said.

“And inflict her on you? No. Jane needs some serious one on one time with me, some super sad movies and a bottle of vodka. Just... have a good crying sesh, ya know?” she paused. “And maybe a new dildo,” she said. “I haven’t had time to look- Nat- you know a good store around here?”

Peter sat very quietly in his chair and prayed that this conversation would end... or they’d forget he was there and keep talking. He wasn’t sure which option he preferred.

“There’s Eve’s Garden on West 57th,” Natasha said. “They’re more aimed at omegas but I’m sure you can find something.”

“Hmmm-”

“Are you ladies ready for your eyebrow threading?” an attendant asked. It was another beta in scrubs.

“Fuck yeah,” Darcy said. “And the kid needs it too-”

“Threading?” Peter asked, lost again.

“Just go with it Peter. I think you’ll like it,” Natasha said.

So they washed their faces (or in Peter’s case, Natasha helped him wash) and Peter sat back in his chair and watched as female betas in scrubs... plucked(?) eyebrow hairs from Nat’s and Darcy’s face with some sort of magic thread contraption.

“Does it hurt?” he asked curiously.

“Hmmm... not really,” Natasha said.

Peter played on his phone until it was his turn.

“What shape do you want?” the woman asked.

“Don’t ask him anything. He doesn’t know,” Darcy said imperiously. “Here- lay back?”

Peter obeyed, and Darcy outlined a shape around his eyebrows with a finger. “Like this- and clean up the middle. His brows are too close together-”

The beta woman made noises of agreement. “I think that will look wonderful. Do you agree- ah-”

“_He _ agrees,” Natasha said. “Hold still Peter. It’ll sting a little the first time, but it’s worth it.”

Mildly alarmed, Peter wedged his eyes shut.

“Relax your face dude-” Darcy insisted.

Peter did his best to comply.

They were a pack of _ liars. _

“OW,” he complained when the first hair got ripped out of his face.

“Calm down. Don’t be a baby,” Darcy said dismissively.

“It hurts!”

“You’ll get used to it-” Natasha said.

“USED TO IT?” he protested.

“Beauty is pain. Now suck it up,” Darcy said ruthlessly. “It’s this or I will have Bucky sit on you and I’ll do it myself with a pair of tweezers. You’re eyebrows have been _ killing _ me for like days now-” she complained.

“Okay okay-” Peter grumbled, and settled back.

By the time she was done, Peter was downright twitchy. It wasn’t so much the amount of pain it was just... once he thought he’d gotten over one sting there would be like, three more.

“How do you do it?” Peter complained.

“Like I said- you get used to it. Also it hurts less the more you do it,” Natasha said calmly.

“Also-” Darcy produced a hand mirror. “See?”

Peter blinked. It took him a moment to recognize the face in the mirror. It wasn’t like there were major changes- but... well. His eyebrows he’d never called bushy but now they were. Shaped. Tamed? And it really was amazing how taking a few millimeters off the inner eyebrow corners(?) really changed the overall look of his face.

His skin didn’t look like a hot mess either.

“Huh,” he said. “What- what was that rose mask stuff called again?”

Darcy smirked. “Can we get like a tub of the rose stuff for the kid?” she asked.

“Of course!” the attendant chirped happily. “You’ll have to keep it in the refrigerator.”

Tony wandered back as Natasha was settling in for a massage.

“Oh! My turn!” Darcy exclaimed, and headed for the tent.

Tony regarded Peter critically. “You got threaded?” he asked, and held Peter’s chin so that he could turn his head this way and that.

“It hurt,” Peter complained.

Tony snorted. “Beauty is pain,” he said simply.

“Darcy said that too,” Peter grumped.

“Well, now you look nicer,” Tony said, letting go of Peter’s face to ruffle his hair.

“Are _ you _going to get threaded?” Peter asked.

“No. I got them waxed. Carmina knows just how I like it,” Tony said, and helped himself to a fluted glass from a nearby tray. He sipped it thoughtfully. “Let's get you something to eat,” he said. “Ramón should be here soon.”

The buffet had changed from mostly fruit to a selection of tiny little morsels of well. Breakfast things. There were tiny muffins and tiny silver dollar pancakes and several bacon-wrapped options. Tiny sunny side up eggs on little pieces of toast. Peter didn’t even know that eggs came that small.

“What’s that?” Peter asked as Tony loaded up a plate, pointing at a tiny mystery item.

“Quiche. You want spinach or ham?”

“Ham.”

Tony picked up five of them and, of course, also loaded up on chocolate covered strawberries.

“Come on. We can eat in the sun.”

They ate their plunder in the sun. It was... nice. Actually nice didn’t really seem to cover it. Sitting in the sun, eating pretty, delicious things while leaning against Tony? Could life get any better than this? Peter wasn’t sure.

He was on his fourth plate when a beta in scrubs quietly told Tony that “Ramón is here.”

“Wonderful! Come on- he’ll be set up in the penthouse. Bring your plate.”

Peter obediently tagged along behind him. It was disappointing when they got in the elevator. He shivered. Inside was cool compared with the warmth of the sun. Tony absently rubbed Peter’s arms. “I know. We’ll be back outside in no time kid.”

When they stepped out of the elevator it was like someone had taken over the penthouse. A barber’s chair sat in the middle of the kitchen floor. A contraption had been attached to the sink that looked like a hair washing station. A flamboyantly gay beta man (complete with a tiny red ascot tie that looked like it been stolen from the set of Scooby Doo) stood examining various scissors in a case.

“Ah! Tony! It is so good to see you!”

“Ramón- always there in my time of need-”

Tony and Ramón held hands and exchanged tiny air kisses to each cheek. It was very... french.

“And who is this?” Ramón asked with a huge smile. It seemed genuine.

“This is Peter. He is in desperate need of your expertise,” Tony said.

Peter huffed. “I don’t see what’s wrong with my hair,” he grumbled. “May has always done a good job.”

Ramón raised an eyebrow. “His aunt,” Tony confided.

Ramón’s eyebrows hit his hairline, and he tsked. “I see,” he said seriously. “May I?”

Peter shrugged.

The man ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. Peter had no idea what he was doing. He grunted thoughtfully several times.

“Well. I think I can save it,” he said eventually. “It is... well. I’ve seen worse.”

Peter bristled.

“Calm down. He’s an expert. May’s an amateur. There’s nothing wrong with her doing her best,” Tony said. “But you’re here, and Ramón’s here. So. Take advantage. Grab a chair. I’m first.”

Ramón nodded. “What is the event tonight?”

“It’s the Maria Stark Gala.”

“I think a simple trim will do.”

“Can you touch up my beard?” Tony asked.

“Of course.”

Peter grabbed a chair and sat on it backwards while he watched Ramón wash Tony’s hair in the contraption attached to the sink. Ramón chattered about this or that as he worked. After that they moved to the barber chair, and to be honest, Peter didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Ramón moved this way and that, cut a little here, a little there, then got out a blow dryer.

Then the guy pulled out this huge blade thing, and Tony acted like it was totally normal while Ramón swirled a brush in a little dish.

“What-what is that thing?” Peter asked, suddenly nervous.

“What- that?” Ramón asked, pointing at the blade. He had a small smile on his face.

“Yeah-”

“It’s a straight razor. It’s very safe,” Ramón said, clearly amused. “It gives a superior shave and lasts longer than the newer trash they pump out every year. You have never seen one before?”

Peter shook his head.

“Kid lives with his Aunt,” Tony said thoughtfully. “Anyone ever teach you how to shave, kid?”

Peter flushed and shifted in his seat. “I- I don’t have anything _ to _shave, Tony.”

“Never too early to learn, give him a rundown would you Ramón?”

“Of course-”

Shaving, it turned out, was a multi-step process that involved things like hot towels, foamy brushes, and knowing things like the “grain” of your hair. You had to pull on the skin just so- then hold the fucking razor sharp razor at a certain angle so you didn’t slice yourself.

“No offense- I think I’ll just... grow a beard all over or something,” Peter said as Ramón did some finishing touches. “I’d rather sleep in in the mornings.”

Ramón chuckled. “That is of course, your choice,” he said.

When he was done, Ramón gave one final dramatic wipe to Tony’s face with a towel and stepped back. “Voilà! It is done.”

Tony looked... exactly the same as far he could tell. Well. The angles on the beard were a bit sharper and more well defined, but that was pretty much it.

“Well kid?” Tony asked.

“What?”

“What do you think?”

“Um... it looks... fine? It’s nice.”

Tony eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t like it.”

“What? No! I don’t... I mean. You just... look like. You know. _ You _.”

“Exactly! Just what I wanted!” Tony said, and Ramón took off the cape thing.

“Your turn! Ramón- I trust your best judgement here,” Tony said and hopped off the chair.

Peter tried to hide his nervousness. It was just a haircut. No big deal. Worst case- he’d just have to wear a hat like he usually did after May cut his hair. Or you know- shave it all off. (To be fair, they’d only had to do that twice before May swore off using electric razors. The guards fell off too easily.)

Ramón washed his hair and Peter hopped up into the chair. The cape went on and- from there it was nothing like Tony’s cut. At one point Tony knelt at his feet and held his hands while the electric razor buzzed right next his ear.

“Hey- almost done kid. Promise,” Tony said loudly over the razor, his fingers carefully stroking Peter’s free thumbs. “Almost done. Breathe kiddo. In and out. _ Ramón_?”

“I’m working as fast as I can,” he said grimly. “Almost done Peter.”

Peter didn’t respond. He was too busy squeezing his eyes shut while staying ramrod straight and still while also trying to obey Tony about the whole breathing thing. It didn’t work very well. He still shook a little.

Eventually, the torture ended, and Ramón turned the damn thing off. Peter let out a stressed out sigh of relief.

“You okay kid?”

Peter shuddered. “It’s... so _ loud_-” he complained. “It’s like... having angry bees in my head.”

Tony considered him. “Next time we’ll get you some earplugs, okay?”

“Did... did it go okay? The guard didn’t fall off?”

Tony blinked, then gave him a small sad smile. “It went fine. You were perfect. Relax kid. I think it’s scissors from here on out.”

Ramón nodded. “There’s a few spots that need cleanup but I can do that with a small straight razor,” he said. “No more buzzing, okay?”

Peter nodded shakily. Tony got a kleenex and carefully wiped some tears that had escaped off of Peter’s face.

Ramón took his time with the scissors to the point that Peter started to get restless.

“You’ve got about another minute before he starts vibrating,” Tony said, amused. “I think you’d better wrap it up.”

“Vibrating?” Ramón sounded puzzled but intrigued.

“He does this thing where he shakes his leg. Shakes the whole sofa when he does it.”

Peter whined. “I don’t mean to!” he protested. “Half the time I don’t even know I’m doing it!”

Ramón chuckled. “Almost done,” he said, and gave a few final snips.

Then he put some product in it and had Peter hang his head upside down while he blew it dry using something called a “diffuser”. Thankfully Peter was good at this part. He could hang upside down for hours no problem.

When he was finally upright again, Ramón used his fingers to make some final adjustments. “And- done,” he said.

Tony grinned. “Perfect! He looks amazing. I knew you’d be just the right man for the job-”

Peter fidgeted as Tony gushed. “Can I see?” he demanded finally, interrupting him.

Ramón hastily gave him a mirror. “Of course, of course!”

_ Jesus Christ. _

He’d thought the whole eyebrow thing had changed his looks, but this- this was _ nice. _Never in a million years would he have chosen this look for himself, but it worked. Ramón had given him a high fade and basically a sort of mohawk that had the front half brushed - no- artfully tousled forward to give him a sort of “I have a mountain of curls” look without actually having the weight of actual curls all over his head.

“Well kid?” Tony asked anxiously.

“It’s great! I totally won’t get hot and sweaty in my suit now!”

Ramón looked puzzled, but Tony snorted with laughter. “Really? That’s all you care about?” he asked incredulously.

“What? YOU have a built in fan thing. I don’t!” Peter complained.

Tony looked up at Ramón. “Oh- don’t worry about it. I know what he’s talking about. It’s a thing,” he said dismissively. “Excellent work as always-”

Ramón beamed.

Tony poured on some more praises and they repeated the whole “air kissing” thing.

“I would totally stay and chat- but I have guests to get back to-”

“Of course. See you in a few months, yes?”

“Jarvis will book something.”

Ramón nodded, and Tony herded Peter back towards the elevator.

“Bye Mr. Ramón! Thanks!” Peter called out as the doors shut.

Tony snorted. “Kid- you are just something else,” he said, and idly picked at Peter’s hair. Peter swatted his hand away indignantly.

“Don’t mess it up!” Peter protested. “I want to show Natasha!”

Natasha and Darcy were were out sunning out next to the pool in bikinis.

“Nat! Nat! Look!” Peter bounced over, then paused. “Wait- where did all the people go?”

“They packed up and left- I made them leave the food- PETER?” Natasha gasped as she finally lowered her sunglasses to look at him. She reached over and shoved Darcy sharply in the shoulder, who looked like she’d been in the middle of dozing off.

“What- wha- holy SHIT SNACKS!” Darcy swore. “What the hell dude?”

“What?” Peter demanded, suddenly self conscious. “Is... is it weird?” he asked, and uncertainly touched his hair.

“Well, you’re definitely a twink now,” Darcy said.

“What’s a twink?” he asked.

“No corrupting the minor child!” Tony yelled from the buffet table.

“You look very nice Peter,” Natasha said genuinely. “Very... handsome.”

Peter considered them. “Wait... are you guys saying I’m... hot?”

“Yes,” Darcy said firmly at exactly the same time Tony shouted, “Adorable! Adorable is the word you are looking for!”

Darcy rolled her eyes, and Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him. “Really Stark?” Nat asked, exasperated.

“Children under the age of 18 are NOT ‘hot’-” Tony said decisively as he strolled over with another plate of food. “In fact I’m fairly sure that there are several laws concerning that exact subject-”

Now even Peter rolled his eyes.

“Come on- sun with us,” Darcy said.

“Can I sit with someone?” he asked, trying not to whine. “I don’t want to sit by myself.”

“You need some cuddles, dude?” Darcy asked.

“Would you?”

“I don’t think there’s room-” she said hesitantly.

“Come on- there’s a bed over here-” Tony said.

“A bed?” Peter asked, but followed.

“What? It’s romantic sometimes to cuddle under the stars. Or at least- so I’m told,” Tony said brusquely and led them to the corner next to the hot tub.

A round bed occupied the corner opposite the hot tub. It sat on a wicker base and even had a sort of partial sunshade on it and came complete with matching pillows.

“Can you even leave a mattress outside?” Peter asked. “How is it not... moldy?”

“It’s made to be outside,” Tony said. “And the fabric is made to hold up the elements. But- it’s not the best for the skin. SO-” he opened a covered box Peter hadn’t even noticed and dug a large sheet out of it.

“Here- help me tuck it in.”

Darcy had to help them, and by the time they were done, Peter was ready for a nap.

Tony dug some actual pillows out of the bin and fluffed them before tossing them onto the bed. Peter shucked off his robe and crawled on. It actually wasn’t that bad.

Darcy followed suit while Tony shucked his robe off and tossed it over a chair. Peter wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not that the man was wearing a speedo. He was surprised that Tony was now missing all of his chest hair.

“You waxed your chest?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yep,” Tony said neutrally.

“Ooo... is someone planning a surprise for their alpha?” Darcy simpered.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I used to do this all the time,” he said.

“That means yes,” Darcy stage whispered to Peter, who flushed. “Come on Nat- you’re the last one out,” Darcy said. “And it’s pret-ty comfy over here,” she sang.

Natasha sighed. “Fine-” she said and laid down next to Darcy. “Nice swimsuit kid,” she said neutrally- which meant that she was totally judging him.

Peter flushed.

“They used to be mine-” Darcy said. “And it’s better than being naked.”

“It’s not like anyone can see me,” Peter grumbled defensively, and smacked his pillow a bit.

“Come here-” Tony said, and pulled him close.

Peter huffed but let him.

It was... better than nice, Peter decided. The soothing music was still playing over the speakers in the awning. And the sun was warm and eased the ache in his bones. A small breeze kept him from getting too hot. And Tony and Darcy bracketed him.

He sighed. And let himself just... drift.

After a while, he started to purr.

The others soon joined him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Random true story: I once did an intricate bat design on my toes for Halloween, then promptly forgot about it. They were still there at Christmas. I eventually had to scrub a bit to get the last orange and black spots off- the day after Easter. 
> 
> Also- I just want to mention that when I initially outlined this part of the story, Friday, Saturday and Sunday were each going to get their own chapter, moving us quickly along back into Plotville. But as you can see... the fluffiness has multiplied like tribbles. I can’t contain it. I’ve given up. We’re just going to have to wallow for a bit in fluffiness before we resume our regularly scheduled roller coaster ride. 
> 
> And no- I haven’t forgotten Harley. He’s there. We were *supposed* to visit him in chapter 35, but like I said- fluffiness tribbles! Don’t worry. We’ll get to him eventually.


	38. Enjoying the High Life IV - Getting to the Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags:  
Is Super Intense Cuddling a tag?, Nuclear grade fluff, I’m serious- take your diabetes pills now, Feelings - So Many. 
> 
> Featuring:  
Tony and Steve Talk™, a massive infodump due to popular demand (I literally made a checklist), Steve talking in Gaelic, and more utterly ridiculous Shirt Nonsense. 
> 
> Get y'all a snack. I apparently can’t write a short chapter anymore even if my life depended on it. 
> 
> Editing? It’s 3am. She’s sleeping.

Steve hummed thoughtfully as he carefully examined the wayward strap and tugged gently on it.

“So am I crazy, or what?” Sam demanded, twisting to get a better view of what Steve was doing.

“I think you just got fatter,” Bucky said flatly with a smirking smile. He was oiling a gun at a nearby table while he watched them.

“Fuck you-” Sam snarled back. “I am NOT fatter-”

Steve fought back a smile of his own as he looked up at Sam from his kneeling position on the floor. The alpha had put his wings on for the first time in over a year and had complained that it no longer fit him “right.” Steve had volunteered to investigate.

“I think,” he said slowly, “That you’ve gained a bit more bulk-”

“I am NOT FAT-”

“I didn’t say it was fat,” Steve said calmly. “Have you changed your workout routine? You probably bulked up a bit in the shoulders since you were last fitted. This-” he rapped on the rigid back piece, “can’t bend. I think that’s why it’s pulling like it is. There’s no strap at the top to give-”

“So it’s pulling at the waist,” Sam finished. “I have been doing more push-ups,” he said thoughtfully.

“Bend forward a little?” Steve suggested, and Sam complied.

Steve stood and squinted at the armor joint at the back of Sam’s shoulders. “Brace.” he ordered and Sam went rigid as Steve pushed on it experimentally in a couple of places. “Yeah- it’s definitely not fitting you right at the shoulders anymore- we’ll have to have Tony look into it-”

“Captain- forgive the interruption but I’m afraid I require your assistance,” Jarvis said.

All three alphas froze.

“Well, that isn’t ominous at all,” Bucky said.

Steve ignored him. “What do you need Jarvis?”

“As you know, Sir has assigned Peter’s health as a priority one command-”

Sam and Bucky both swore, and Steve sighed. “What’s happened now?” he asked, resigned.

“He has laid in the sun for over an hour without sunscreen, and they are not responding to my efforts to rouse them-”

“What do you mean they won’t respond?” Bucky demanded. “Who all is out there?”

“Sir, Peter, Miss Romanov, and Lady Barnes are currently sleeping on the roof. I could use a siren to wake them- but it might cause Peter undue distress-” Jarvis sounded dismayed.

Steve sighed. It was a mixture of relief and disbelief at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

_ Only Tony. _

“I’ll go wake them,” he said.

“Thank you Captain,” Jarvis said.

“You guys finish up here. I’m sure it’ll only take a minute,” Steve said ruefully.

“Uh huh. Don’t strain yourself too hard,” Sam teased, already unbuckling himself from his harness.

Bucky snorted. “That’s just how it is, Sam. You gotta remember- the _ good _ pack leaders _ always _take the worst jobs on themselves,” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.

Steve lovingly flipped him the bird as he walked out of the armory, and Bucky cackled.

Steve was still smiling when he walked out of the elevator onto the roof. “Tony?” he called- but got no answer.

“Jarvis?”

“They are on the bed next to the hot tub, Captain,” Jarvis said.

Steve frowned in confusion and headed for the hot tub. _ All of them? _

“Tony- baby- it’s time to... get...” he said, and stood there, jaw agape while he waited for his brain to come back online.

The omegas were laying basically in a loose pile, cuddling and clearing scenting each other. And purring. He could hear it from several feet away. It was- breathtaking. They were the essence of innocence and vulnerability- and they were practically _ naked _\----

He had to take a lap. Then another one.

He was a mated man, god damn it. He was better than this.

Never mind that Tony was in that pile. Or that he was wearing...

_ God damn it. _

Come on. He desperately tried to remember that meal he and Bucky had shared on an awful rainy day back before the army. They’d had to pick maggots out of the flour before they could use it-

He took a breath. Right. Peter was in there. Clearly underage. Not appropriate _ at all Rogers _ , he told himself sternly. Plus Darcy was Bucky’s _ mate _ for crying out loud.

Not to mention Natasha. She probably had a knife on her somewhere.

It helped. Somewhat.

Thus appropriately braced, he cautiously tried again. He studiously ignored Natasha and Darcy and focused on Peter and Tony. Thankfully, Tony was towards the outside of the group.

“Baby-” it was a struggle to keep his voice light as he gently ran a hand down Tony’s shoulder and kissed his hair.

“Hmm?” Tony sounded distracted. Maybe even a little drunk.

“You need to wake up babe,” he murmured. “You need to come in out of the sun.”

Tony huffed. “Fuck off,” he grumbled and buried himself pointedly into Peter’s neck.

“Tony-” he tried more firmly, and shook a shoulder.

Tony turned and glared at him. Or tried to. His pupils were blown and his eyes unfocused. He growled a bit and smacked Steve’s hand away before rolling back to cling even harder to Peter, who sighed and clung back like a human starfish.

If he wasn’t mistaken, Peter was even drooling a bit there.

_ Okay... _

Steve bit a lip thoughtfully. Peter seemed to be the center of the pile. Maybe if he got him up, the others would follow?

“Peter- sweetheart- it’s time to get up-” he reached out a hand and touched his hair-

Tony, Darcy, and Natasha all snarled viciously at him in concert.

He practically teleported to a safe distance, and for a split second had the somewhat hysterical idea that he should probably be grateful he still had his hand.

Confused more than anything, he watched them carefully. After a moment, when it was clear that he’d been warned off, they laid their heads back down and the purring resumed.

_ What. The. Fuck? _

He was going to need reinforcements for this. The only question- who did he ask for?

Bucky would be able to get Darcy out, okay. He could carry Tony... but that left Peter and Natasha.

_ Fuck it. _

“Jarvis, get Clint, Sam and Bucky up here,” he said.

By the time they arrived via the elevator, he was longing for a cigarette- he could still hear the purring from even halfway across the roof and it was _ driving him crazy. _

“What’s the matter Cap? You can’t wake up some omegas?” Clint sassed as they got off.

Steve held up a warning hand and bodily blocked them from going any further onto the roof. “Stop that,” he said growled.

The men blinked at him, taken aback.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky snapped, suddenly edgy.

“This- I don’t know. They’re not sleeping. I- I don’t know. Just- can it Clint. Brace yourselves,” he warned.

They advanced cautiously as a group and stared at the bed.

“Holy shit- it’s like a real life porno-” Clint whispered, awed, and promptly got smacked upside the head by Bucky.

“That’s my _ mate _ you’re talking about Barton,” he snapped. Clint looked unapologetic.

Sam cleared his throat. “Um... I ah-”

“Go-,” Steve said.

Sam retreated, swearing softly- taking a lap of his own.

“We need to get them out of the sun before they burn-” Steve said. “I tried to wake them up and they actually _ snarled _ at me when I tried to touch Peter- it’s like they’re drunk or something-”

“Well- I mean- they kinda are-” Clint said.

Both alphas turned their full and complete attention to the beta, who flinched a little.

“Go on,” Bucky demanded.

“It’s... um. A thing? A pur pile?” Clint said. “Jesus, don’t you guys watch porn at ALL?”

“That- that is _ not _porn-” Steve snapped, waving at the bed. “They’re...” he struggled.

“Cuddling,” Bucky finished. “It’s very natural. They’re just hugging each other-”

“There’s absolutely _ nothing _ dirty about it at _ all _,” Steve said, protesting a bit too hard, even to his own ears.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Well-_ yeah _. But alphas like to watch it. So complain to pornhub about that, not me,” Clint said defensively.

“You said they’re drunk?” Steve demanded.

Clint shrugged. “They get... loopy. And um...” he scratched his nose thoughtfully.

“And what?”

“Very... very... cuddly. With each other. And um... others. Look. Do I need to draw diagrams here?” he asked, exasperated. “They’re gonna be out of it for a while even after we get them separated.”

Sam returned, back to his normal unflappable self. “Okay. So. What’s the game plan? We each grabbing one? Going inside?”

Steve hesitated, “We need to get them to let go of each other first,” he said. “And Peter needs to go last.”

“What if we just got them out of the sun? There’s an awning. Can’t we just... push that thing over so they’re in the shade? Leave them and let them come out of it on their own?” Bucky suggested.

Steve checked his watch. “We’ve got that gala today. I don’t know if Tony is done getting ready for it. And Natasha’s supposed to be coming too-”

“Jarvis, what has Peter eaten today?” Clint asked.

“Peter has had approximately a thousand calories of fruit and other hors d'oeuvres,” Jarvis said.

Everyone winced. “He’s going to need to eat soon then,” Clint said.

“Look- they’re enjoying the sun, right? So if we go with Bucky’s plan and push them into the shade _ first _-” Sam said.

“They might get annoyed enough to wake up a bit,” Steve said. “Clint? Any objections?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. Can’t hurt anything.”

They had to clear a path first. Then Bucky had to wedge himself between the bed and the railing on the edge of the roof to get behind the damn thing.

“You got it?” Steve asked.

“I’m gonna push with my legs,” Bucky grunted, bracing himself.

“Ready- 1 2 3- GO!”

Bucky pushed. Steve pulled. Sam and Clint pushed on either side to get it going where they wanted.

It was a pain in the _ ass _ . Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to use his super strength on something he actually cared if he destroyed or not. Usually he just... punched things or kicked them out of the way. But _ this _\- the damn thing was heavy, low set to the ground, dragged like a Saint Bernard that didn’t want to leave the dog park, and had four very precious omegas on top of it that no-one wanted to fall off or hurt in the process.

Eventually they got the bed, with the omegas on it, under the awning. Not once during the entire process had they stopped purring. If Steve hadn’t been so annoyed he would have been impressed.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky grunted, hands on his knees. “Why the fuck am I winded? I’m a goddamn super soldier-”

“Maybe it’s because it’s really low to the ground and you can’t just kick it along like you normally would,” Sam suggested from his seat on the ground.

“Please tell me that it's working,” Clint complained from where he was slumped on a deck chair.

On the bed, Tony stopped purring and grunted with displeasure.

“Wait-” Steve cautioned, holding up a hand.

Natasha stopped next. “Who’s- who’s blocking the sun?” she slurred, complaining.

The alphas held their breath.

Natasha was the first to prop herself up and let go of Darcy. “What?”

“Clint- go go-” Steve urged quietly. He didn’t want to startle her.

Clint swore under his breath before plastering on a smile. “Hey sugar,” he cooed as he moved in closer. “Come on. I’ve got some new clothes you can yell at me about,” he said.

She snarled at him.

Clint ignored her, and threw one of her arms around his neck. “Come on Nat. Code black- trust me-”

She blinked, confused. “What? I- I’m drugged?”

“Come on. I’ll take you home-” he said, and gathered her up. She didn’t protest as he carried her off.

“What happened?” she whined. She hardly sounded like Natasha at all.

“Bucky?” Now that Natasha had been taken care of, they should be able to get the others off without broken arms or stab wounds.

“I’m on it,” Bucky said, and knelt on the bed. Darcy was currently spooning Peter, who was sandwiched between her and Tony like some sort of omega Oreo.

“Hey baby-” he rubbed her back. She stirred. “You want some fudge?”

“Hmm?” she asked distantly.

“I got some rocky road fudge back on our floor. You wanna come with me?” he asked gently.

She blinked. It looked like it took a lot of effort. “Fudge?” she asked with vague interest.

“Come here- we’ll go watch some Buffy and eat some fudge, doll-” he cooed.

She let go of Peter, and reached for Bucky. “I want X-files,” she complained.

“Anything you want sweetheart,” he said, and pulled her quickly off the bed before she could change her mind. “I got her,” he said.

“Okay- I’ll take Tony, you take Peter,” Steve said.

“You want me to take him to his floor?” Sam asked. “I don’t mind babysitting, but- I don’t know what mood he’s going to wake up in.”

Steve considered. “Put him in his own bed. That way when he wakes up he won’t be confused. Make sure he has pillows and blankets. He might want to nest.”

Sam nodded. “Alright- I’m ready if you are.”

Steve approached first. “Don’t touch Peter until I get Tony clear,” he said and gently touched his mate’s shoulder.

“Tony- sweetheart- you want to go snuggle with your bear?” he asked sweetly.

Behind him, Sam made a sound that sounded like a quickly repressed snigger. Steve shot him a dirty look, and Sam coughed. “Sorry. Ah- sorry. I just... didn’t expect that,” Sam said, clearly chagrined.

Steve ignored him, and refocused on Tony. “Baby? I’ll take you inside and get you some blankets- get you warm again?”

Tony grunted unhappily, and Steve gently pried one of Tony’s arms off Peter. “Come on,” he coaxed.

Tony made no effort to move.

Steve sighed, and tried to think. What would convince him to come with him with minimal fuss?

An idea came to him.

“Tar liom, tabharfaidh mé aire duit,*” he murmured in Tony’s ear.

Tony blinked and stirred, turning towards him. “Steve?” he sounded drunk.

“That’s it. Tar liom mo ghrá,**” he cooed.

Tony let go of Peter to roll towards him. “Steve-” he whined.

Steve took the chance, and all but snatched him off the bed. Tony squawked in complaint. “Settle,” Steve rumbled, holding the errant omega firmly to his chest.

Tony huffed, but stilled after winding his arms around Steve’s neck. Steve nodded at Sam. “You got him?”

“Yeah, I got him,” Sam said. “Come here kid. Time to go to bed.” Peter whined pitifully, but allowed himself to be gathered up and put in a princess carry.

Sam and Steve shared the elevator. “If Peter so much as breathes weird, I want you to take him straight to Cho,” he said firmly.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sam promised.

Steve took Tony straight to bed. The omega whined when he put him down, so Steve gave him a blanket before going to the closet where they kept their Heat supplies. He dug out the man’s giant bear and a few more blankets. He returned to find a visibly distraught Tony all but destroying the bed- he watched as Tony threw a pillow with such disgust it bounced off a far wall.

“Hey- sweetheart- calm down I got your bear, okay?”

“My pup- I... I can’t find my pup,” Tony complained, sounding near tears and utterly confused. Steve’s heart broke right in two. He abandoned the bear.

“It’s alright baby- he’s in his room,” Steve said, and climbed into the bed and gathered Tony close. He rumbled, and tried to focus on projecting safety and comfort. He was miles better at rumbling now after all the practice he’d had with Peter.

Tony fussed, but didn’t fight being held.

“Shh... I’ve got you...” he murmured, and rubbed Tony’s scent glands.

Eventually, Tony slept.

*****

Tony drifted awake, and blindly reached for the warm body next to him. He burrowed in as much as he could, deeply inhaling the comforting scent of... his alpha?

“Alpha?” he mumbled, confused. Where was Peter?

Steve rumbled in answer. He could feel the alpha scent mark him up and down his back. He felt inordinately pleased about that for some reason. He stuck out his face and after a moment, managed to elicit a kiss.

Steve- the silly man- pressed feather light kisses to his face. This was nice, but not what he wanted. He pulled him down for a proper one- deep and slow. For some reason Steve resisted him at first.

“Baby- I can’t- you’re not yourself-” he protested.

“I _ need _ you alpha-” Tony whined and kissed him again.

By the third kiss, his alpha stopped fighting him, and rolled Tony on his back so he could kiss him back properly.

Tony purred.

The next time he drifted awake, he was still being snuggled by his alpha- something he deeply approved of. He was, however, also a bit thirsty. Maybe his alpha could make himself useful.

“Steve?” he mumbled, but got nothing but heavy breathing in return.

He nibbled a collarbone thoughtfully, but still got no response.

So it was with much love and affection that he pinched his alpha right on the ass. (Which was difficult to do. It took some effort to find a place he could even pinch- it was like the man was made of marble. So unfair. He made sure to twist a bit to make him pay for that.)

Steve startled awake with a snort.

“I’m thirsty,” Tony complained.

“What-” Steve huffed, blinking. “Did... did you just _ pinch _ me?” the man sounded incredulous.

Tony looked up at Steve and gave him his best, most innocent face. “What?” he said. “Why on earth would I do that?”

He pinched Steve’s nipple while maintaining direct eye contact. (It would take too long to find a place on his abs. Seriously. Not fair.)

Steve lurched like... well. Like he’d just had his nipple pinched and Tony giggled.

“Tony- what-” Steve just looked and sounded so... _ baffled. _

It was _ hilarious. _

Tony poked him right in the belly button. His giggles turned to sniggering when it made the alpha flinch. Steve growled, and Tony found himself expertly pinned to the mattress.

“You... are... just... impossible-” Steve said, exasperated, punctuating his words with kisses. “And so fucking high-” he worked his way down to Tony’s neck then chest.

“Hmmm...” Tony went limp, and watched as Steve kissed his way down even further. He liked where this was going.

He was thus completely unprepared when the man suddenly caged him in with his elbows, buried his face in Tony’s stomach, and gave him a raspberry.

Tony shrieked and tried to buck him off but to no avail. Steve gave him another one.

“Steve- STEVE- stop!”

Steve, the monster, ignored him and tickled his ribs until Tony was breathless with laughter.

“Surrender!” Steve demanded.

“Never!” Tony vowed, still laughing, and doubled his efforts to buck him off- but Steve was a wily and fucking heavy bastard, and Tony only found himself pinned to the mattress again, this time on his belly.

“Surrender, omega,” Steve growled like two millimeters from his left ear.

Breathless, Tony bared his neck.

Steve rumbled his approval.

Sometime later, Tony laid on his back, sweaty, content, and a little sore as Steve carefully licked the freshly re-opened bond bite clean. He sighed. “We should get you to a doctor to look at your oral fixation,” he complained halfheartedly. “You really had to bite me again?”

Steve rumbled a bit but otherwise ignored him.

Tony considered the ceiling.

“Steve?” he asked quietly.

Steve hummed.

“Do... do you- mind Peter?”

Steve stopped what he was doing to look at Tony seriously. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

Tony hesitated. “It’s just... he’s been needing so much... just everything lately-”

“Baby- he’s _ sick _. And it won’t be for forever.”

“I know- but... I brought him in-”

“No. I would never mind him,” Steve said firmly. “It’s just how life is sometimes. He’ll come out of it.”

“And... if he doesn’t?” Tony asked miserably.

“Then we’ll take care of him,” Steve said. “He’s pack. He’s... he’s our _ pup _. We’re going to keep him. Period.”

Tony stared at him. “Our _ pup_?” he asked incredulously.

Steve snorted and pressed a kiss to Tony’s neck. “You’ve called him your pup more times than I can count,” he said teasingly, then hesitated. “He’s called me ‘dad’ a few times.”

“Really?” Tony demanded.

Steve hummed in response.

“He called me ‘mom’ this morning,” Tony admitted softly.

Steve cackled a bit.

“Steve!” Tony protested.

“I’m sorry baby- it’s just- he’s not wrong,” Steve said, amused, and gave the omega another kiss as an apology.

Tony considered the ceiling. How Steve had given him a non-answer the last time he’d asked.

“So... you really don’t mind?”

“Baby- I know you brought him in. I know he’s more yours- but. Any pup of yours is mine.”

“You’re sure-” Tony asked uncertainly.

Steve rumbled loudly, cutting him off. “_ Enough_, omega.” He nipped Tony pointedly on the neck, making Tony shiver. “_Settle. _”

Tony relaxed and let Steve go back to licking him. He considered the ceiling some more, and worried a bit at his lower lip.

“And... if I- if I gave you another pup?” he asked softly. Hesitantly.

Steve stopped again. “You have your eye on another one?” he asked seriously.

“Maybe,” Tony hedged.

Steve huffed, and kissed an earlobe. “I trust you baby. And if you want another pup- so be it. You can have as many as you want,” he said softly.

“Really?”

“Really,” Steve said, then paused. “Though, of course, we might have to look into bunk beds eventually depending on the size of your collection-” he deadpanned. .

Tony squawked and swatted at him. “I don’t want an army!” he protested.

“Well yes, but you have to remember- there are only so many floors in the Tower,” Steve said, mock-seriously.

Tony smacked at him again, but Steve easily blocked it. “You’re just awful, you know that?” Tony complained.

Steve snickered, and went in for another kiss.

“Forgive me Sir, but a call is coming through that I believe you would like to take,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

Steve froze, but he always did when Jarvis surprised him.

“Who is it J?” Tony asked. “If it’s Fury we’re not on ‘til Monday.”

“It’s Patrick Leeds, sir.”

“Who?”

“He is from your legal department. He says he has your requested updates.”

“Updates?” Steve asked curiously.

Tony perked up considerably. “Patch him through.”

“Good afternoon sir,” a male voice said from the ceiling.

“You’re on speaker with me and Steve. Lay it on me.”

There was the sound of rustling papers. “Well, I have good news. I just confirmed the report from Queen’s County School District- Counselor Derrick Garland has been terminated with cause. My sources say that he’s been blacklisted from, well- pretty much everywhere, including Richmond, and that’s Staten Island. Guards Harrison Wills and Hugh Mack have been reassigned-”

“Wait- reassigned?” Tony interrupted. “Why not fired?”

“That’s not up the school district, Mr. Stark. All public school guard positions are supervised and filled by the NYPD, and as such they belong to the Union. Now we did apply pressure and got them moved- I don’t know where. The NYPD has been a bit standoffish these days ever since you denied their request for those drone things-”

“Drones?” Steve asked.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Police state nonsense. As if cameras on every corner aren’t enough. No. If they want drones they can go to Radio Shack or something,” he said sourly.

“Radio Shack?” Steve asked, confused.

“Radio Shack went out of business like 6 years ago, Mr. Stark.”

“Whatever. Anything else?”

“We checked up on Doctor Connors. He’s gotten himself a job at Empire State University in a research department. Something to do with genetics? He seems happy- no obvious unexplained influx of cash. We don’t think he’s the source of the leak of the cocaine story.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Are you checking the staff?”

“We’re in process now, but it’s going to take a while. In the meantime we’re going over our non disclosure agreements. We’re going to try to give them a bit more teeth and get everyone to sign. We’re looking to scare off any repeats of this happening. Remind them what’s at stake, etc.”

“First born children sort of thing?”

“As close as we can get, Mr. Stark,” the man said sincerely.

“Good,” Tony hummed in thought. “Any word on why no-one from the school contacted us?”

More papers rustling. “Ah. Well. Lewis Combs- he’s the head of district security; he’s the one who would notify you- called in sick that day- his mother suffered a heart attack the day before and he was with her at the hospital upstate. And his second, Bruno Cullen was in Connecticut for a wedding. The guy after him- it was his second week on the job, Mr. Stark. No-one told him about the policy.”

Tony face palmed. “Seriously? Really?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark. But...” Tony could almost see the helpless shrug that was happening on the other end. “Mr. Hogan worked with the district to try to minimize the amount of false alarms and possible leaks. So the district supervisors were the only ones who knew about the policy. We told the principal a cover story- that Mr. Parker is related to a famous actor and that he should turn away any reporters and report them to the district- but that’s all we told him. He wouldn’t have known to call.”

Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to hold back laughter.

“You think it’s funny, Steve?” Tony demanded, furious.

“I mean- it kinda is. To be honest, when I look back, I’m surprised the quinjet didn’t crash. It was just... one of those days where everything that could go wrong did.”

Tony sighed. “What about...” he racked his brain- so much had happened this week- _ Jesus _, “The guy. At Target.”

“We pulled the security tapes and I’ve got a private investigator looking into it. We also looked into ah...” more paper rustling, “Flash? Turns out his real name is Eugene Thompson. His father owns some hardware stores in Brooklyn.”

“Tony-” Steve rebuked him softly, but Tony ignored him.

“And?” he demanded. “What are we looking at?”

“Well, he was arrested for trespassing and vandalism - apparently he egged a house with his football team last year. His lawyer did an alfred plea*** and he did some community service at the ASPCA. He walked the dogs- that sort of thing. No complaints except that he was sometimes late.”

“Anything else?”

“He’s got an unpaid parking ticket on a really nice red convertible,” the man said flippantly. “Honestly, Mr. Stark- I don’t think there’s anything to worry about here. What you should be worried about is Stacey Lewis- we reached out to her and her mother and they’re both insisting they don’t want money.”

Stacey Lewis? It took him a moment to place the name. Darcy’s blabbermouth sister.

“What do they want?” Steve asked.

“Access to Mrs. Barnes. They say they won’t sign anything until they talk to her first. In person.”

Steve frowned and Tony winced. He knew all too well why they were asking for that- to get a chance to their greedy, slimy claws into her.

“Steve?” Tony prompted. While Darcy was his territory- technically she’d have to defer to Bucky about this. Which made it Steve’s problem... even though Bucky would probably do whatever the hell it was that Darcy wanted. Unless Steve overruled them. So again- Steve’s problem.

Pack rules gave him such fucking headaches sometimes.

“Talk to Bucky,” Steve said. “I’m trusting him to make the decision on this. You can tell him I said that.”

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” the lawyer guy said.

“Please tell me that’s everything,” Tony said.

“I believe it is.”

“Keep me posted on the Target guy,” Tony said.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

“Great,” Tony said, and waved a hand making Jarvis disconnect the call. Steve gave him a look. “That’s rude ya know-” he scolded.

Tony rolled his eyes. “He’s a lawyer, Steve. He was born with thick skin.” Tony sat up. “What time is it J?”

“It is 4:25,” Jarvis said. “Your next appointment is 5pm Dinner.”

“What- already? Did May ever come?”

“No sir, she has not arrived yet,” Jarvis said.

Tony swore viciously.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

Tony sighed and rubbed his face. “May was supposed to bring the kid his clothes. _ Days ago _ , Steve. I talked to her this morning and asked her if she wanted to swing by for dinner with us- and she said no. And now- she’s _ still _ not here,” he bitched. “I just... _ don’t _ understand that woman. First she fights me tooth and nail and then as soon as I get him, she vanishes off the face of the earth.”

Steve looked somber. “I’m sure she has her reasons-”

Tony glared at him. “He broke his ARMS. And she can’t even show up for a fucking _ dinner _.”

“She said she’s been working double shifts lately. She’s probably taking it easy for once. It can’t be easy to work like that and raise a kid. We’ll- we’ll figure it out. Bucky and Sam can take the kid over to his house and pick some stuff up while we’re gone. It’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s not about the _ stuff _, Steve-” Tony growled.

“I know,” Steve said quietly. “But we need to give her the benefit of the doubt.”

Tony sighed. “I need to take a shower,” he said tiredly, and left.

He was adjusting the temperature of the water when Steve walked into the bathroom. Tony ignored him- maybe the man had to pee. It wouldn’t be the first time. Instead Steve opened up the glass shower door and joined him.

“Steve- what-”

“Shh...” Steve said, and enveloped Tony in a hug.

“Steve,” Tony whined. “I- I can’t go again-”

Steve kissed his hair. “I know. I’m not here for that. Let me take care of you baby.”

“What?” Tony was so confused.

“Come on. Take a seat. I want to wash your hair for you.”

Tony huffed. “I don’t have broken arms, Steve,” he complained. “I can do it myself-”

“Which is why it would be an honor if you would let me do it,” Steve said simply.

Tony blinked up at him.

Steve gave him a gentle chaste kiss. “You’re upset. Let me take care of you,” he said softly, resting his forehead against Tony’s. “Let me pamper you a little bit.”

Well... what was the harm, really?

“Fine,” Tony huffed. “But I mean it Steve- I need to be up and walking later tonight-” he warned.

Steve gave him a small smile. “Promise. No wandering hands.”

At first, it was odd. Sitting on the bench, letting Steve gently scrub his hair. When he lathered up a washcloth and started on his arms, Tony wondered idly if this was how Peter felt earlier today. It was... like he was a doll almost? He wasn’t sure he liked it.

It wasn’t until the alpha knelt and cleaned his feet with the same gentle care and attention he’d done for Tony’s hands that he really got it.

Steve was going to take care of him. He could trust him. The silly alpha even loved him enough to clean between his toes for him (who the fuck did that anyway?). And he did it naked and on his knees.

It was almost ridiculous. No, it _ was _ ridiculous. His alpha was the most ridiculous, insane, caring, stupid, loving man he’d ever met.

If his pup turned out to be even half the man that Steve was... Jesus Christ the world was in trouble. He ghosted his hand over his flat stomach. Well. Not entirely flat (not everyone could be made of marble like Steve and Bucky). But-definitely-not-showing stomach.

9 days. It’d been 9 days since the end of his heat. He’d have to wait 12 more before he could get a definite answer.

He forced himself to keep his hands on the bench. He didn’t want Steve to worry. It might not have even happened- he _ was _ old. Getting older. Whatever. It was possible it hadn’t taken.

_ Fuck, he hoped it had. _

The thought startled him so much that he jerked a bit and Steve looked up, concerned. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No- I just...” he felt tears prick at the back of his eyes. Never in his life had he’d ever hoped to be pregnant. And now... and now... _ what if he wasn’t? _

_ And why was he crying? _

“Baby?” Steve was alarmed.

“I’m okay- I swear- I don’t know why I’m doing this-” he wiped furiously at his face.

“Hey- hey-” Steve sat next to him, and held him tightly, tucking him under his chin. “Shh...”

Tony felt utterly silly. He was still covered in suds, damnit. There was literally no reason for him to be carrying on like this. He sniffed miserably anyway.

“It’s been a hard couple of weeks, baby. With Peter and all. It’s okay to need a minute. Let it out,” he murmured, then rumbled. And smelled all safe and like _ home _. On purpose, no doubt.

_ Fucking. Goddamn. Alpha. _Making him all... weepy. He was going to have a headache and red fucking eyes now.

A drink- a nice scotch perhaps, would make him feel better and make the tears go away.

But instead, he was sitting here. Soapy. And naked. And crying. For no real reason.

It was _ stupid. _

It still took a while to stop, and when he finally did, Steve rinsed him off, gently wiped his face and didn’t say another word about it. He even toweled him off and helped him into a robe. (Tony drew the line at his boxer shorts, though. He could put those on himself.)

“Jarvis, please let the staff know we’re eating in the penthouse tonight,” Steve said.

“Of course sir.”

Tony frowned at that. “We were supposed to eat with Peter-” he complained.

“Sir, if I may- Peter ate a large cheese pizza and is currently taking a nap,” Jarvis said.

“Who gave him pizza?” Tony demanded.

“Mr. Wilson did sir.”

Tony scowled. “We need to go over his diet with Cho. He can’t live off pizza and shakes. He needs like... vegetables and things. Or something. Fruit maybe.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s still getting situated,” Steve said calmly, looking amused. “One week of junk food won’t kill him.”

Tony still grumbled.

They ate dinner at the island. It was a quiet affair. Steve sat so close he practically rubbed shoulders with him. Normally Tony would have side-eyed him or asked him for space but today- today it was comforting and not suffocating.

Afterwards they sat on the couch and watched TV in their robes and underwear. Or- at least, Steve watched TV. Tony found himself curled up pretty much on top of him, nose buried in Steve’s chest and clinging to him like a needy child. Steve didn’t even comment, he just let him and idly ran his fingers up and down Tony’s back, gently tracing his spine.

Jesus Christ it was good. They should have been doing this for _ months _ now. The only conclusion that he could draw is that past-Tony was a fucking idiot. And- seriously- was it even legal for someone to smell this good? It was crazy.

“You feeling better now?” Steve asked.

Tony hummed. “You smell good,” he said. His voice was muffled from having his face smashed into Steve’s chest.

The fingers tracing his spine paused ever so slightly, and Tony got a whiff of embarrassment before his mate’s scent shifted to _ happy_, and _ pleased_. Steve kissed the top of his head, and cupped what was available of Tony’s face with a hand.

“Love you baby,” Steve whispered.

Tony felt his face flush, and he squirmed a bit. But he eventually managed a mumbled “Love you,” back.

Steve, with his stupid super hearing, must have heard it because he started rumbling, and he kissed Tony’s hair again.

“Forgive the interruption sir, but Ms. Hodson and her team are here.”

Tony sighed. “Let her up J,” he said and reluctantly sat up, and Steve made a noise of disappointment.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, “You can touch my butt in the limo later,” he teased.

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” Steve said, his voice dark.

Tony found himself blushing, and hurried to get a glass of water to hide it. He could almost feel Steve’s eyes on him as we went.

_ Keep it together, Stark _ , he thought firmly. They’d been mated for months now. _ Months. _The little butterflies in his stomach were... an anomaly.

Katie, with her little trundling traveling clothes rack, 4 assistants, multiple garment bags and little traveling suitcases of makeup products was a welcome distraction.

“Steve- where’s your tux?” Tony called from the closet as he dug out his paisley shirt.

“Uh... I don’t know,” Steve said, leaning against the closet door’s door frame.

Tony huffed. “Jarvis?” he asked impatiently.

“It is on Captain Roger’s floor,” Jarvis said.

“What? Why didn’t you bring it up?” Tony asked.

“I haven’t gotten around to it,” Steve said reasonably. “I still have a bunch of stuff down there- I still need to find something to store my art supplies-”

“We were _ just _ at IKEA. Why didn’t you get something then?”

Steve shrugged. “Forgot I guess. Darcy and Sam were needing those bookcases-”

“Well you can do it tomorrow,” Tony said, and carefully inspected his shirt for tears or stains. “Tell your squad to get their butts in gear and help you carry stuff or something,” he huffed.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know there was a rush.”

“It’s been what- 5 months?” Tony complained. “Get all your shit up here already.”

“It has been 6 months Sir,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

“See? 6 months. And you can put my hammock together tomorrow too,” he said, picking a speck of lint off a sleeve. “It got missed on IKEA day. And if it’s not out of your old floor by Wednesday I’m having it pitched,” he said decisively.

Steve blinked at him, startled, before smiling warmly at him. “Yes dear,” he said.

Tony froze, then marched over to the alpha and poked him right in his stupid muscly chest. “Did you just ‘yes dear’ me?” he demanded, incredulous.

Steve’s eyes crinkled and he leaned down and gave Tony a kiss to his hair. “Yes dear,” he said.

“Get out! Go get your monkey suit,” Tony demanded, shoving him a little. Of course the man barely budged. “And take your ‘yes dear’ and shove it up your ass!”

Steve left snickering.

Tony took a breath to steady himself and emerged from the closet to find Katie had hung several suit jackets on a rack. They ranged in color from blue to black to gray.

“Katie- darling-”

Her eyes went right to the shirt he was holding. She frowned. “What is this?” she asked. She didn’t sound impressed. “I need something to go with this,” he said.

She frowned ever so slightly. “This is not what we discussed last month,” she said warily.

“Well, it came up last minute. I need to wear it.”

“Is it... a new designer?” she asked cautiously.

“Ah- no. It’s from my closet. I’ve had it...” he blanked out for a moment. How old was the shirt anyway? “Doesn’t matter. I know you brought a selection. And we can pull from my closet if we need to.”

Katie pressed her lips together. “Wearing something old to a gala?” she asked. She didn’t sound like she was a fan of the idea.

“Why not? Steve’s going to wear the same suit to everything until I set the damn thing on fire in a couple of years.”

“But he is... an _ alpha_,” Katie said carefully. “And you... are not.”

“Katie. Come on. It’s not that hard. It’s_ paisley. _”

They were 10 minutes late getting to the car.

“I think you look great,” Steve said honestly.

Tony sighed, and looked out the window of the limo. They’d settled on a medium charcoal gray suit with a plain darker gray tie and blue pocket square that Tony still wasn’t too sure about. The blue didn’t _ quite _ match his shirt. But it was the best match of what he had in his drawer.

“Hey- come on, what’s wrong?”

“The shirt’s not too... much?” he asked.

“You want to go back and change?” Steve, the idiot, asked. Like they had time. Tony knew he had a reputation for being late to everything- but that was because he’d usually been so drunk he was lucky to know what _ day _ it was. The fact that he managed to show up, shaved and in a suit at all was a minor miracle. One that Pepper had been in charge of making sure happened for several years.

And he was you know-_ trying _ now. To not be... all that.

_ Yes he wanted to change. _

“No.”

He’d just have to turn up the razzle dazzle charm, that’s all. He critically examined himself in a mirror he had stashed in the limo for this exact scenario and minutely adjusted his hair.

Maybe the blue tinted glasses were too much? But it was evening- sunglasses might be a bit gauche- a thought struck him.

“Remember to stand next to me,” he said suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“You need to stand next to me and like- maybe hold my hand or something.”

“I’ll hold your hand if you want me to, Tony,” Steve said, sounding confused.

“It’s not that-” Tony said impatiently. “You’ve been-” he searched for the right word, “missing in action so to speak at the red carpets with me. People are starting to talk-”

“Talk?” Steve demanded, frowning. “What are they saying?”

Tony sighed and dug out his emergency sunglasses from a little compartment and tried them on experimentally.

“They’re saying...” he trailed off, and cleared his throat. “They uh- they think I’m a beta, babe. Betas and alphas don’t have the best track record of... you know... staying together. For long,” he said awkwardly.

He was completely unprepared for the hand that grabbed him around the waist and physically dragged him to the other side of the bench seat. He squeaked a bit.

“You look _ amazing,” _Steve said firmly. He took off Tony’s sunglasses and kissed him senseless, nearly destroying Tony’s lip gloss in the process.

“Steve-” he protested weakly when the alpha gave him a second to breathe.

“You look amazing and you are _ mine _-” Steve growled. And OH- did that do things to him.

Steve kissed him again before moving down to Tony’s neck, rumbling possessively.

“Steve-” Tony gasped as the alpha nipped him behind the ear then moved further down. Steve ignored him.

Steve sucked on his neck and growled “MINE,” again in Tony’s ear- and Tony felt a trickle of slick hit his boxer shorts. It shocked him into action. “STEVE!” Tony protested, smacking the alpha’s chest in a bit of a panic. “STOP!”

The alpha froze. “Baby?”

“Let me GO!”

Steve dropped him instantly and Tony scrambled to the other end of the limo, and tried to get his breathing under control.

“Oh my god- Tony? Did I hurt you?” Steve asked, horrified.

“You’re gonna me make me soak my fucking pants!” Tony shouted angrily at him, and started to desperately fan himself with his hands.

Steve’s eyes widened. The scent of intensely aroused alpha nearly made Tony choke.

“_Stop that! _ It’s not helping! For god’s sake, roll down a window!” Tony shouted at him, and stuck his face next to an air vent. “Think of naked grandmas or something, _ Jesus Christ _-”

Tony frantically recalled that awful afternoon that was supposed to be his 8th birthday party at a pool that had somehow turned into a business meeting that left Tony by himself with a disinterested female “peer” that was 5. His dad and Obie had sat in deck chairs around the pool in swimming trunks, shirtless, with old man tits all but flapping in the breeze as they talked about the latest defense contracts.

Thankfully, the whole... boxer situation resolved itself. And the open window did wonders for airing out the limo.

He scowled and rubbed the sore spot on his neck. Wait- sore spot? He dug out his phone out of a back pocket and turned on the selfie camera. His eyes widened. “A _ hickey _ Steve? Really?” he demanded incredulously. “You already fucking _ bit _ me-” he complained. It’d been the subject of an intense debate with the makeup artist for a full 5 minutes as to whether she could safely cover it without risk of infection. They’d decided to let it be, even though it peaked out over his shirt collar a bit.

Steve looked immensely satisfied. “It’ll give them something to talk about,” he said smugly.

Tony rolled his eyes. _ Fucking. Alphas. _

Tony stayed on his end of the limo for the rest of the ride, and threatened to kick the alpha if he got any closer. “You’ll fucking ruin my makeup!” he growled, and Steve stopped pushing the subject.

He never did stop looking smug though- _ the bastard. _

He did scoot down when they got next in line for exiting the car so that when the door opened it wasn’t obvious he’d spent most of a 15 minute car ride glaring at a smug alpha.

Steve got out first and “helped” Tony out of the car. Which, he had to admit, was a classy move on Steve’s part. Tony plastered on his best smile and they hit the red carpet.

Everyone shouted at them and Tony’s glasses (he’d gone for the blue ones after all) helped keep him from being completely blinded by the flashbulbs. Steve, for his part, stuck close to Tony’s side and sported a cheesy grin instead of the “I’m about to be put in front of a firing squad” expression he usually sported at these things.

After the gauntlet, they hit the ballroom, and Steve was promptly all but kidnapped by some very enthusiastic buff alphas to go to the ‘buff/military alphas’ corner. (There was always such a corner at social gatherings in Tony’s experience. It seemed to be one of those mysterious ‘alpha things’.)

He mingled, told a few bad jokes to a couple of senators, and smiled until his face hurt.

He was at the bar getting a club soda when a blonde omega popped up at his elbow smiling widely at him. It took him a moment to place her. She was a reporter- she was the one who’d told him about the weapons shipments Obie was doing ages ago. He might have even slept with her- his memory was fuzzy about that.

“Karen- right?” he tried.

“It’s Christine,” she said, but her smile said that she’d expected him to fuck up her name. “I was hoping I could have a moment,” she said.

He considered her. “I’m a mated man now,” he said cautiously.

“And I’m a mated woman,” she said, her smile never leaving. “But I was hoping you could shed some light on a situation that’s brewing in North Korea-”

“Wait wait wait-” Tony said, throwing up a hand. “North Korea?”

“Yes. North Korea.”

Tony tried to think if he’d heard of anything happening in North Korea and drew a blank. He opened his mouth to tell her this (he did, after all, kinda owe her one)-

Her dress was very nice, it occurred to him. Tasteful. Reporters, especially print reporters, didn't employ stylists, which meant that she’d picked it out herself. Her shoes were even nicer. Off-brand knockoffs, but they were GOOD off-brand knock offs. He didn’t pay her.

And- more importantly, she wasn’t afraid to call him on his shit. No-one could claim otherwise.

He looked around. “Tell you what- I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”

His answer clearly caught her off-guard. “What?”

“I want you to answer a question while I film it, and I’ll talk about your North Korea thing.”

“You... want to film... _ me _?” she looked unsure as to what planet she was on.

“Unofficially. I need an outside opinion on something.”

“And you need to film it?”

“To prove I’m not lying about what you say,” he said and sipped his club soda.

Now she looked intrigued.

“You down?” he asked.

For a moment, she looked like she was seriously questioning her life choices. “Sure,” she said.

“Come on. I think there’s a quiet corner over there-” he said and headed for a corner. She trailed behind him.

Once they got there, he put his drink on a window ledge and pulled out his cell phone. He hit record on his camera. “Alright. I’ve got an outside opinion here- this is Christine. Christine, do I in any way pay you?”

“No?” she said uncertainly.

“Great. Now I want you to be brutally honest. Like. Just speak your mind here. No wrong answers.”

“Alright?”

“Is this- or is this not- a great shirt?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

He used his free hand to gesture at his shirt. “It’s paisley. There’s nothing wrong with a good paisley, right?”

She eyed him. “Are you serious?”

“Always.”

She considered him. He’d unbuttoned his suit jacket at some point earlier, so he helpfully moved one flap to the side so she could get a better view of it.

“Well?” he asked after he’d given her a moment.

“It’s... it’s pretty terrible.”

“What?” he sputtered.

“I mean, you kinda rescue it with the suit because it covers most of it-” she said calmly, as if she wasn’t absolutely casually destroying him. “But overall, I would say you should probably get rid of it after tonight.”

He stared at her open-mouthed for a moment.

_ FUUUUCK. _

Then again. How hard could swinging be? It’d be fine.

He scowled, and hit the button to stop recording.

“Alright. North Korea. Hit me.”

“That was it?” she asked skeptically.

“Yep. North Korea. Let’s go.”

She shook her head, and pulled out a voice tape recorder from her clutch.

“So. I have a source that says that North Korea got hacked sometime within the last year,” she said.

Tony frowned. “North Korea has computers?” he asked with fake skepticism.

“Apparently. They say that plans for their nuclear enrichment program were stolen.”

Tony made a face at her. “Really?” he said, his face wrinkled with confusion. Who the hell would want enrichment information from _North fucking Korea_?

“They also said that whoever did it made the oompa-loompa song play over the official state speakers.”

“The oompa-loompa song?” Tony asked incredulously.

“Willy Wonka? The little green men sang songs about the kids that died? Specifically it was the one about the fat kid.”

Tony stared at her, mouth agape in shock, and burst into laughter. “Seriously? The oompa-loompa song? No no- I get it. I get it. It’s because the guy- Kim whatever- he’s fat and everyone else isn’t. Holy shit, that’s some real fuckin’ balls-”

“Some people have been suggesting that you did it.”

“Me? Why would I steal-”

“Kim Jong-Un insulted you this past summer. He called you a coward.”

“Well, it wasn’t me.”

“Do you know who might have done it? Off the record?”

Tony wracked his brain. Who the hell would hack North Korea- the jankiest of the Koreas- to get their stupid third rate enrichment information, and play the oompa-loompa song? It wouldn’t be Hammer. He was still in jail. And to be honest, he wasn’t stupid like that. Oompa-loompas weren’t exactly his style.

Maybe a new supervillain wannabe? Honestly it sounded like something Tony would have done when he was a teenager if the internet had been more of a thing-

He felt his lungs freeze in his chest. Teenager. Stupid. Like him.

_ Harley. _

And Kim had called Tony a coward... and Tony had been ignoring him ever since his mother had warned him off. In fact, it sounded exactly like the sort of stunt Tony would have done in an effort to get his dad’s attention back in the day...

_ SHIT. _

“So you _ do _ know who did it?” Christine asked suddenly.

Tony blinked and quickly slapped his poker face back on. “I appreciate you bringing this matter to my attention,” he said. “I will be looking into it personally.”

“Who is it?” she demanded.

“I... can’t comment.”

“Was it SHIELD?”

“No,” Tony said instantly. “Like I said, thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he said with his fakest smile. “I’m sorry. I have some things to take care of,” he said, and power walked away.

Jesus Christ. Obviously he was going to have to deal with this.

But _ HOW _?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Come with me, I’ll take care of you.  
** Come with me my love.  
*** An alfred plea is basically where you say “You’ve got enough to convict me, just punish me and get it over with- but I didn’t do it” sort of thing. 
> 
> It has occurred to me that this work COULD conceivably be broken into two separate books/parts. The whole “Holy Shit, what’s killing Peter?” part that goes to around Chapter 21 or so, and this part that’s happening now. Once I finish writing this thing, I might just do that so that my story “summary” will be more accurate since we’re going to be taking a bit of a left turn once Harley shows up again. Let me know how you feel about this in the comments. 
> 
> But just to be clear- I won’t be breaking the story up NOW. If I did, it would be after this work is finished. (And once I figured out how to even do such a thing).
> 
> Edit: the edit fairy has visited and fixed some spacing issues.


	39. The Nesting Habits of Cuckoo Birds II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags:  
Angst, Fluff, teenage rebellion
> 
> Also, this one is less than 30 pages. I know- I'm just as shocked as you are.

Peter woke up alone.

He woke up alone and cranky.

He woke up alone, cranky, and COLD.

He snarled his displeasure.

“Hey- chill out man. You want a bear?” someone offered.

“Why is it so _ cold _?” Peter bitched loudly.

“More blankets. I’m on it.”

Something cool but incredibly soft was dumped on him, and he clutched it out of reflex. He buried his face in it. It was also the perfect size for him to hug. He did so. The fur felt amazing against his bare skin.

This... this was better.

Slightly.

“I’ve got you,” the voice said, and blankets were put on top of him.

Peter nested. It took a while. He was hampered by the fact his hands kept complaining at him. At least he figured out who was talking to him. Sam sat on a chair in the corner.

“That better?” Sam asked.

He huffed and snuggled the bear. He had no idea where it came from, but he had bigger problems- he couldn’t decide what to name it because he was definitely keeping it.

“Hungry,” he bitched, but quietly this time.

“You want pizza?”

“Pizza?” Peter parroted, suddenly hopeful.

Sam retrieved a box from a counter on Peter’s tiny kitchenette and walked over to Peter’s nest.

“How much you want?”

Peter stared at the box. His stomach rumbled audibly.

“Put it down and walk away- got it,” Sam said amused, and carefully perched the box on the side of Peter’s bed.

Peter devoured the entire thing, and promptly passed out.

The next time he woke up, someone was running their fingers through his hair.

“Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” Darcy cooed.

Peter grumbled, and buried his face deeper into his bear. Maybe he’d call it Reginald. That sounded like a good giant bear name.

“Hey- we’re gonna go to your house and pick up some stuff. Come on.”

Peter huffed. “Why?” he asked, his voice muffled in his bear. “May’s gonna bring it-”

“It’s almost 7 and she still hasn’t come yet. She must have forgotten again. Come on. We can go get some blankets from your house. You want your pillow?” Darcy asked.

That... that did sound nice. He did miss his pillow.

But then he’d have to get up.

“Get up and get dressed and you can come sleep with us tonight, pup,” Bucky said. “You and Darcy can nest together. You want that?”

Peter considered, and popped his head up. “You gonna be there too?”

“If you want,” Bucky said neutrally. “You want to make a nest in the bedroom or like a fort in the living room?”

“I don’t know,” Peter complained. Both sounded amazing.

“You can think about it in the car. Come on,” Bucky said and gently pulled on an elbow.

Peter reluctantly got up, and Darcy helped him change in the bathroom. He blinked and winced in the almost too-bright lights as she got his jeans on. “What happened?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought... I remember being on the roof?” Peter asked.

Darcy flushed a bit. “Yeah... we were. But apparently we were like _ super _into the sun, and wouldn’t wake up so the alphas had come get us before we burned.”

“But I feel weird,” Peter complained.

“Tired, but rested?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll pass once you’re awake for a while. It’s like a hangover or something.”

Peter sniffed and obediently bent over a bit so she could put his tank top on- then paused. “Wait... is that one that we bought, or one from my drawers?”

“Um... I think it’s one from the drawer-”

“I don’t want that one. They’re too big.”

She examined the size. “It might be a bit baggy-”

“I want one of the ones we got at Target,” Peter insisted.

Darcy shrugged, and popped the door to the bathroom open. “Babe? Can you get one of the shirts from the shopping bags in the kitchen?”

“The blue one okay?”

Darcy glanced at Peter, who nodded.

“That’s fine.”

Darcy helped him put it on, and Peter double checked it. It didn’t gape at the top like the other one would have.

She watched him pensively. “You know that guy at Target was just an asshole, right?” she asked.

Peter flinched a bit, and flushed. “I... just. I don’t like it when it’s big,” he lied.

“You’re a guy still, you know that right? You can walk around topless. You did it earlier-”

“That was- it’s different when it’s just you guys,” Peter said softly. “I wouldn’t wear that out in _ public _-”

“Tony-”

“Tony passes for a beta,” Peter shot back hotly.

She considered him, and nodded. “I get it. I do. It’s okay. You dress how you want, okay?”

Peter nodded, mollified.

“I’ll tell you what- we’ve got time tonight. We called May and she didn’t answer so she’s at work probably. We can go through your clothes at the house and figure out what you want to put away, and what you want to bring over and see if we need to do some extra shopping.”

Peter considered. He hadn’t been through his clothes in forever. “How long do you think I’ll be at the tower?” he asked.

Darcy shrugged. “That’ll be up to Cho I expect. We’ll just take a bit of everything. It’s not like you don’t have the closet space here. You ready to go?”

Peter scowled. “I still don’t have my shoes,” he complained.

“We’ll grab the slip ons from our floor on the way out,” Darcy said.

Bucky drove the SUV this time. Sam sat shotgun while Darcy and Peter got stuck in the back because of “policy”, which Peter didn’t believe for a second. Stupid alphas and their need to sit up front. And be all... _ alpha. _

“Does Sam really need to come?” Peter complained.

“Steve asked for it. And we might need another set of hands to carry things,” Bucky said nonplussed. “Stop whining- even if Sam weren’t here you still wouldn’t be sitting up front anyway.”

Peter sputtered. “What- _ why _?”

“Darcy outranks you.”

Darcy giggled a bit at the look on his face. “Hey- you won’t be a kid forever. I’m sure one day you’ll do a fabulous job doing my errands,” she teased.

Peter tried not to sulk and didn’t succeed very well.

When they pulled up there was a strange car in the driveway behind May’s.

“Looks like May is home after all,” Darcy said.

Peter frowned at it. “She did say she was having dinner with a friend... maybe Rita got a new car?”

“Who’s Rita?” Darcy asked.

“She’s a nurse at the hospital that May’s friends with,” Peter said. “May’s always going over to her place- did you remember the keys?”

“I got them,” Bucky said.

They piled out and Bucky unlocked the door but stepped aside and let Peter go in first.

“MAY! Do you-”

Peter froze as May and some dude hastily separated on the couch.

The couch that had been moved back from where he’d carefully put it for maximum sunning potential.

“May?” he asked uncertainly. Her clothing was a bit rumpled. And there were candles scattered around the room. Why were there so many candles? Had there been a power outage? But the street lights were on outside-

“Peter! Oh my god, I- I wasn’t expecting you-” May said, hastily standing.

“You- you said you’d bring my clothes today, but you didn’t so Bucky decided to bring me over-” Peter said, still clueless. “And you didn’t answer the phone so we thought you were at work? But you’re not, and... who- who is this guy?”

“Peter-” she paused, “Can you give us a moment?” she demanded, irritated.

Peter turned and found Bucky behind him, standing in the doorway. He looked like someone had snuck a lemon into his drink.

“I can’t leave him unsupervised,” Bucky said, clearly hating every second. “I’m sorry Mrs. Parker. I have orders.”

“Unsupervised? He’s _ my _ kid-” May said, starting to get angry.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to the stranger, who still had yet to leave the couch. “You’re not on the list,” he said after a second. “I can go stand on the porch, but you need to leave the door open,” he said, and backed off a couple of steps.

“May? What’s going on?” Peter asked, confused as the mystery man stood up from the couch. He was... average. Brown hair. Beta.

“Peter- this- this is Gus,” May said.

Peter frowned. “Gus?” he asked, incredulously.

“Hi Peter,” Gus said awkwardly. “I’ve heard an awful lot about you,” he said with a smile.

“May?” He looked to his Aunt for an explanation.

“I- Gus is a friend,” she said.

Peter looked at her. Looked at the candles. Her rumpled clothes. An idea he didn’t like came to him.

“He’s your boyfriend,” he accused.

She cringed, then smoothed her face. “Yes,” she said. “We’ve been seeing each other and I- I wasn’t ready for you to meet him just yet-”

“How long?” Peter asked.

“What?” May asked uncertainly.

“How long have you been together?” he asked.

“That’s not important-” May said.

“It’s our six month anniversary, sport,” Gus said.

May scowled at him. “I wasn’t going to tell him that yet!” she hissed.

“He would find out eventually anyway, honey. It’s better to just rip the bandaid off-”

“Six months?” Peter said quietly. Too quietly. There was an edge of anger to his voice.

“Peter- I know this is hard-”

“Ben hasn’t even been dead for a year!” Peter roared. “And you’ve been lying to me for six fucking months! Have you really been working late? Or was that a lie too?”

“I have_ never _ lied to you-”

“Really? Because you always say that you’ve been going over to Rita’s and that’s _ obviously _ a lie-”

“I never said I was going to Rita’s- I said I was going to a friend’s-”

Peter felt like he was going to pull his hair out. “A lie of omission is still a lie,” he insisted. “Or does that rule only apply to me?”

“Peter- I didn’t want to introduce you too soon-” she said.

“I just- I can’t believe this- six months? Really?”

“We meet at group,” May said. “Gus lost his wife to cancer two years ago-”

“You met him at group? I thought you said you were going there to get better?”

“I am going there to get better-”

Peter felt his fingers flex inside his cast. His teeth ground together. “Why haven’t you brought me my clothes?” he asked quietly. “It’s been days-”

May looked confused for a moment then winced. “It’s been a busy week Peter and I knew you had stuff at Tony’s-”

“Have you been busy with him?” Peter asked quietly. “Is that why?”

May and Gus shared a look.

“Look, it’s been a hard week on everyone-” Gus said. “May is doing her best-”

“So you _ did _ choose to spend time with him,” Peter said quietly. “Instead of me.”

May gaped. “Now Peter, that is NOT fair- you were fine at Tony’s-”

“I missed you,” Peter said, his voice cracking. “Is... is this because I hung up on you? Are you mad at me? Because I’m _ sorry _-”

“Peter- no. I’m not mad at you. Like Gus said, it’s been a crazy week-”

“Too crazy to drop off a suitcase?” Peter asked incredulously.

May and Gus shared another Look again.

“Melody- my daughter- had to have emergency surgery this week to remove her appendix,” Gus said quietly. “May has been helping me look after Sarah- my other daughter- while she was in the hospital.”

Peter didn’t know to feel about that. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling right now.

He just... was ‘tired’ an emotion? Because he really felt that right now. He studied the floor.

“Peter. I wasn’t ignoring you. I knew you were safe at Tony’s and Gus needed me-”

“I’m sorry I interrupted your date,” Peter said. The words were right. It’s what he should be saying. So why did they feel like ash in his mouth? “You’re right. I have stuff at Tony’s. I’m fine. I- I’m gonna go-”

“Peter-” May sounded torn.

“I’m glad that you're happy,” Peter said woodenly. He managed to dreg up a smile for her. “I’ll just... I’ll get out of your hair. Bye May,” He didn’t wait for her reply. He just turned around and left. He wordlessly walked past Bucky and after a brief struggle with the door handle, sat in the car.

“Everything okay dude?” Sam asked from the front seat.

“It’s fine. It’s... it’s just a bad time or something. I’m okay with what I have at the Tower,” Peter said flatly.

Sam cocked an eyebrow at him, but Peter ignored him, choosing to stare out the window at the house across the street.

A few minutes later Bucky opened the trunk and shoved a suitcase inside. He and Darcy wordlessly got in.

“Bucky?” Sam asked.

“It’s fine. She had a guest we weren’t expecting,” Bucky said. “She gave me his suitcase. So we should be good.”

Sam frowned at him and opened his mouth to say something, but Bucky shook his head at him. Sam settled back in his seat, but didn’t look happy about it.

As they pulled away, Darcy tried to hold his hand. Peter just pulled it away.

It was a quiet ride back to the tower.

Peter stewed in the silence. Logically, Peter had known that May might (one day) date again. It’s not like she had vowed a life to chastity or something. And yes- people other than himself existed. It would make sense that May would be called to help someone- especially since he was at the Tower. (Where he was FINE.) And she said she’d been helping some kid. What if they were super little? It made sense. You don’t drag a toddler around just to deliver a suitcase.

Not when he was perfectly fine where he was.

It was fine. He was just... being needy. Selfish even. He should be better than this- he was 15. There were 15 year olds who lived on their own and paid rent and stuff, right?

So there was _ no reason _for him to feel like he’d just been sucker-punched in the gut. Really, honestly- he was just being a huge baby about this.

Worse- he was being stupid again.

Stupid like he’d been before Ben died-

He cut that thought off. He’d sworn that he’d be better than that. It was part of why he became Spider-Man.

He just... needed to get his shit together that’s all.

He stared at his hands, and wondered just how exactly one got their shit together.

Darcy was helping him put his clothes in his closet when he heard Bucky and Sam talking quietly in his little kitchen.

“We’ll take it from here,” Bucky said.

“You sure? It’s supposed to be my turn-”

Peter felt a stab of guilt and irritation. He hadn’t _ asked _ to be babysat, goddamnit. And Bucky and Darcy were newly mated. They should be doing... whatever. Not babysitting.

_ And also- they were taking TURNS? _

“It’s fine. Kid needs another omega right now, and he knows me better.”

“What happened?”

“Surprise boyfriend.”

“What- May?”

Bucky hummed.

Sam sucked his teeth. “Well, that’s a bitch.”

“Where do you want your suit Peter?” Darcy asked.

Peter blinked. “What?”

“Do you want it hanging in the closet or in a drawer?” she asked.

Peter shrugged. “Drawer. It doesn’t hang well.”

Darcy folded up the suit and put it in a drawer. “I think that’s it kiddo. What do you want to watch upstairs?”

Peter hesitated. “Do I have to go? Can’t I just stay here?”

“Well, I can stay if you want-” Darcy said.

“No, I mean- by myself.”

“Peter you can’t be by yourself when you’re on your medication-” Bucky said firmly.

“Then take it off. I don’t need it.”

Bucky walked over and leaned over a bit so that Peter wouldn’t have to look up so far. It irritated him. He wasn’t a 5 year old, damnit.

“I know you’re upset. But I’m not going to take it off. Cho says you need it-”

“But I don’t hurt anymore-”

“Because you’re wearing your patch,” Bucky said. “Now, if you want, we can talk to Cho about it tomorrow when we get your casts taken care of-”

“I thought we were going to do that today-” Peter protested.

“That was before you slept most of the day. I checked before we came and got you- it’s too late- the guy who does that went home already. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, why don’t we get your pjs on and then we can go upstairs and watch something.”

Peter eyed him churlishly as a fresh spark of anger hit him. He didn’t WANT to watch a movie god damn it.

Bucky didn’t even blink. If anything, he looked amused.

“Come on, mini-Steve,” Bucky said, and ruffled his hair. “Let’s go.”

Peter gaped at him. “What?” he sputtered.

“You’re just like him when he was small, I swear. Same glare and everything.”

Peter openly scowled at him. “Yep. That too,” Bucky said, grinning now.

Peter stormed off. “That counts too!” Bucky shouted after him.

As payback, he picked “Maximum Retribution*” for the movie. “What’s this one about again?” Bucky asked as he settled in on the couch with his popcorn. Peter sat on a pile of pillows looted from the common floor at his feet.

“You and Cap hunt down dinosaurs with machine guns,” Peter said.

Bucky choked a bit on some popcorn. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Peter said smugly, and pressed the play button on the remote.

Darcy wandered in from the kitchen with a bowl of m&ms.

“Is this the one with the T-Rex and a hot Howard Stark?” Darcy asked.

“Yep.”

“Aw, sweet. I haven’t seen this one in a while,” Darcy said, and plopped down on the couch next to Bucky.

“You’re serious- this is real?” Bucky demanded.

“Yep.”

The movie started.

“Who the hell made this?” Bucky demanded. “He’s not even holding that right-”

“Hush!” Darcy demanded, and elbowed him hard. “It’s not even that bad-”

“I could have picked the french one-” Peter smirked.

“Is that the one where they totally make out?” Darcy asked.

“They don’t totally make out- they _ aggressively _make out,” Peter corrected her.

“Who makes out?” Bucky demanded suspiciously.

“You and Cap,” Peter smirked.

“We should totally watch that later,” Darcy said, over the sound of Bucky actively dying next to her. “That bit is _ so hot _\- I remember when I first saw it in high school-”

“But... we’re both alphas!” Bucky protested weakly.

Darcy and Peter shared a look.

“I think he’s missing the point,” Darcy said.

Peter shrugged. “It’s better than the one with Channing Tatum in it,” he said.

“Which one is that?” Darcy asked.

“It’s the one where Bucky’s like 14 and Cap is in his twenties, and there’s a rocket launcher.”

“I think I fell asleep during that one-”

“How many movies are there?” Bucky demanded.

Peter shrugged. “A lot?”

“There’s like, _ so many _,” Darcy said. “They made most of them in the 80s.”

“What... why?” Bucky asked, baffled.

They both slowly turned to look at him.

“Babe- you’re like... a national icon. I had to do a report on you when I was in school-”

“I did mine on Dum Dum,” Peter said. “I thought his name was weird.”

“He liked to use hollow-points,” Bucky said defensively. “They used to call them Dum-Dums back then. And you did a_ school report _ on me?” he demanded.

Darcy blushed. “I was like 13, and I thought you were the cutest Commando,” she admitted.

Bucky frowned. “That is both amazing and disturbing-” he muttered after a moment.

They went back to the movie.

“I think my brain is leaking out of my ears,” Bucky complained when it was revealed that the dinosaurs were robots.

“Hush! Howard hasn’t even taken his shirt off yet-” Darcy hissed at him.

“_ And... _ now I’m out,” Bucky said, getting off the couch. “You Os enjoy the movie. I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed,” he kissed Darcy on the cheek and wandered off.

Afterwards, they watched the one with Channing Tatum and threw popcorn at the wall.

They watched the french one next. They may or may not have rewound that one part a couple of times (Darcy had heard that if you paused it just right you could see Chris Evan’s dick).

“I think that’s just a shadow-” Peter said thoughtfully. Jarvis had helpfully “enhanced” the scene in question, and had blown up the picture to fill up most of the wall. It was almost 3 am and Peter had moved past the part where he wanted to die of embarrassment and into like a calm shadow realm beyond it that he hadn’t even known existed somewhere around 20 minutes ago.

“It’s totally a dick! See?” she jabbed at the wall. “Jarvis, can’t you zoom in anymore?” she demanded.

“I apologize, Lady Barnes, but that is the maximum resolution available,” Jarvis said.

“That is like... a tip, at best,” Peter opined. “Can you really call just a tip a dick?”

“A dick is a dick!” Darcy argued.

“The people on set were really on top of that sheet placement,” Peter muttered thoughtfully. “You can’t even see _ anything _ of Sebastian’s-”

Darcy scowled.

“Jarvis- I could have sworn that Evans was naked in _ something _-” Darcy huffed.

Peter was already on it. “Not Another Teen Movie,” he said, tapping at his phone.

After a moment, Jarvis brought up the picture. They both stared at it.

“Are those... cherries on his... um...” Peter asked faintly.

“He had cherry nipples! I totally forgot about that!” Darcy laughed.

Peter tilted his head. “Did he really need that much... cream on the bottom?” he asked. “And how are those cherries even staying _ on _?”

“You know, I never thought of that. Wouldn’t they slide off...?” Darcy said, and eyed the refrigerator.

Peter followed her gaze.

“I’m not putting whipped cream on my tits for science,” Peter said bluntly.

“Well, neither am I!”

As one, they turned towards the bedroom where Bucky was sleeping.

“He’d never go for it,” Peter said. “Right?”

“Not when you’re here, no,” Darcy said sadly.

They compromised and went for the side of Peter’s arm.

“I told you it wouldn’t stay on-” Peter said as the whipped cream slid down his arm.

She scowled. “Maybe it’s because you’re not hairy enough,” she muttered.

“But his chest is clearly shaved-” Peter protested.

“Shaving cream! They must have used shaving cream-” Darcy said.

Peter frowned. “Maybe. But that doesn’t explain the cherries-”

“Bucky has shaving cream-” Darcy said.

They wound up in the bathroom digging through cabinets.

“I _ know _ he has some somewhere,” Darcy muttered. She was searching through drawers while on her knees.

Peter watched her from his vantage point on the toilet seat. His attention wasn’t on her, but on the scattered contents of one of the drawers.

“What even _ is _ this?” he complained, and held up a possible torture device.

Darcy barely glanced at it. “It’s an eyelash curler.”

“You curl your eyelashes?” Peter asked dubiously.

“Only when I need to be a fancy bitch for the night,” Darcy said.

Peter clacked them experimentally with his left hand. “How would they even work?” he asked.

Darcy stopped her search to look at him. “Are you just asking or do you want to try them?”

Peter stared at the contraption apprehensively.

Eventually, Bucky wandered in.

“Babe- it’s like... ungodly in the morning what are you DOING?”

Darcy scowled at him over her hairdryer, which she was using to heat up the eyelash curler. “Go away! We’re doing serious omega things-”

Bucky peered sleepily at Peter. He blinked a few times.

“You know what- I don’t even want to know,” he said and wandered off again.

“Darcy-” Peter complained.

“I’m not done!” Darcy protested, and took the curler off the heat. She blew on it for a few seconds.

“Ready- eyes open-” she applied the curler and counted to 20.

“And now we put some mascara on-”

Peter huffed a sigh. “Mascara?”

“The mascara keeps the false lashes and real ones together so they don’t have a gap-” she said firmly.

Peter grumbled, but let her. “Are you sure about this?”

“I used to do this every morning when I was in high school because I was crazy, so yes,” Darcy said firmly. “Look up?”

Peter obeyed and Darcy used a tiny stick thing to smear mascara all over his lashes.

“And...” she stepped back to survey her work. She chewed a lip. “Is that still a firm no to the lip gloss because-”

Peter scowled at her. “I already have eyeliner and false eyelashes on!”

She shrugged. “Your loss.”

“Can I see now?” Peter asked.

“Go on-” she moved out the way.

Peter stood in front of the bathroom mirror and almost recoiled in pure shock.

_ Jesus Christ. _

Look. He knew he was... short. Around 5’ 4” if you measured first thing in the morning. And he weighed something like 110 pounds on a good day. Which on the one hand meant he was flirting with being underweight, but on the other hand meant he had serious cheekbones and largish eyes.

But NOW- his eyes almost looked cartoonishly large. He blinked a few times- the false eyelashes making his lids feel oddly heavy and stiff.

“Is this real life?” he muttered. “What the _ hell _ Darcy-”

“It’s _ amazing _, isn’t it?”

“I have more eyes than face!” he complained.

“Dude- there are plenty of omegas who would pay a shit load of money to have that problem,” Darcy said sagely.

Peter blinked again. “The eyelashes make my eyelids feel weird,” he complained.

“You’ll get used to it,” she said.

Peter hemmed, “I don’t know Darcy...” he said uncertainly. “Isn’t it a bit... much?”

She stepped next to him and considered his reflection in the mirror. She was at least 5 inches taller than him, he thought resentfully.

She carefully carded his hair forward and hummed in thought. “The false eyelashes might be a bit much,” she conceded. “But you totally rock that eyeliner.”

“I just...” Peter blew out a breath and made a face at his reflection in the mirror.

Darcy stared at him.

“We could always fuck up your hair,” she offered.

Peter turned to look at her. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

At 6 am Peter took the elevator up to the common floor. Bucky didn’t have cheerios and he was starving- and Darcy was passed out on the couch.

Sam and Steve were in the kitchen talking. Peter walked right past them to dig his cheerios out of the cupboard.

Sam saw him first.

“Holy shit!” he sputtered, doing a double take.

Steve, alarmed, turned to look. “What- what did you do to your _ hair? _” Steve demanded, horrified.

Peter looked up at him through his lashes. “We dyed it blue,” he said while Steve sputtered. “I like it.”

“It is way too early for this-” Sam muttered into his coffee.

“Your Aunt isn’t going to like this, Peter,” Steve warned.

Peter shrugged. “Well, she can suck it,” he said coldly. “I like it blue.”

There was a sudden stunned silence behind him while Peter struggled to get the cereal box down.

“Well,” Sam said after a moment. “We’re just going through _ all _the puberty today, I see.”

“Peter-” Steve said, his voice all rumbly. “You should have more respect for your Aunt-”

Peter scowled. “Whatever. Can you help me get a bowl, please?”

Steve frowned at him, and flashed his “Captain America is disappointed in you face.” It might have worked like a week ago. But now?

“Steeeve-” Peter whined. “I’m _ hungry _-”

Steve sighed and got Peter a bowl.

“I know that you’re upset with your Aunt-” Steve said as he not only got the bowl down but poured cheerios in for him as well. “But acting out is not the way to get her attention-”

“I’m not acting out-” Peter protested. “I just dyed my hair.”

“Peter- your hair is _ neon blue _-” Steve said exasperated.

“So?” Peter said defensively.

“And the makeup?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He poured milk on the cheerios.

Peter froze. He’d forgotten about that.

“It’s just some eyeliner,” Peter muttered after a second. “Darcy says it looks good on me.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said, and gave him the bowl.

“It’s not like I pierced my nose,” Peter complained, and Sam sputtered into his coffee. Steve’s face twitched a bit.

“Son-” Steve started.

Peter waved him off. “I know- I know. Darcy said she wouldn’t help me, and I’m not ‘old enough’ to get it done without ‘parental consent’,” Peter complained, making the best air quotes he could with only 3 fingers.

Sam made high pitched squeaking noises into his coffee mug, and Steve shot him a glare before continuing.

“Lets just not do anything... rash, okay? At least talk to Tony first,” Steve pleaded.

“Talk to Tony about what?” Natasha asked, coming off the elevator.

Steve gestured at Peter like he was some sort of hot mess. Peter frowned at him.

Natasha paused by the island and considered him. “Who did your hair?”

“Darcy.”

“Not bad. Your false eyelashes are a bit... intense though,” she said.

Steve sputtered a bit. “_ False eyelashes _?” he demanded. Everyone ignored him.

Peter heaved a sigh. “I can’t get them off and Darcy’s sleeping,” he complained and took another bite of his cereal.

“You’re supposed to be able to pull them off,” Natasha said. “Just give them a good yank.”

Both Steve and Sam looked horrified.

“I tried that and it hurts!” Peter complained.

“What kind of glue did she use, do you know?” Natasha asked.

“House of Lashes,” Peter said.

“When did you put them on?”

Peter shrugged. “Like... three hours ago?”

“Wait a few hours and hold a warm washcloth over it to help loosen it.”

Peter grumbled into his cheerios. “What if I just waited for them to fall off?” he asked.

“Last time I used House of Lashes, mine stayed on for three days,” Natasha said simply.

Peter grumbled some more, flicked a glance at Steve, and decided, “fuck it.”

“Hey, you don’t have like any extra nose rings laying around do you?” Peter asked as innocently as possible.

Steve rumbled in warning. Peter ignored it.

“You can’t pierce your nose,” Natasha said without blinking as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Why not?” Peter demanded.

“Because it makes blowing your nose feel weird. Also it could get infected.”

Peter considered his cheerios. He hadn’t thought of that first part.

“But I have super healing,” he objected.

“Which just means that you’ll have to wear it all the time or else it’ll close over,” Natasha said calmly. “If you’re that set on it I have some fake rings you can try out.”

Peter brightened considerably.

Natasha drank her coffee and stared at him.

“Just to be clear- when was the last time you slept?” she asked.

Peter shrugged.

“So you didn’t sleep last night?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“No. Watched movies with Darcy then did my hair,” Peter said.

“And you’re not tired?” she asked.

Peter shrugged. “No?”

She hummed thoughtfully, staring at him like his forehead held the answer to some sort of mystery.

“What?” he demanded.

“What happened?” she asked Steve.

“Nothing happened-” Peter protested, but everyone ignored him.

“May got a new boyfriend,” Sam said.

Peter slouched in his chair even more and scowled at his cheerios.

“Did you ever consider I might have dyed my hair because I felt like it?” he demanded.

Natasha stared blankly at him. “No,” she said. “Is this a new-new boyfriend, or new to you boyfriend?”

Peter glared at his cheerios. “It was their six month anniversary yesterday,” he mumbled, and stabbed at the bowl with his spoon.

Natasha blinked, surprised. “I thought Ben passed last June-”

Peter growled.

Natasha stilled. “Right,” she said with determined nonchalance. “What’s his name?”

“_ Gus _,” Peter said it like it was an exotic form of shit.

“Last name?”

Peter shrugged aggressively.

“You gonna look him up Nat?” Sam asked.

Natasha nodded. “Of course.”

“Not even you can’t look up a man with just a first name,” Sam complained.

She took another sip of her coffee. “Did he have a car there?”

“Yeah-” Sam said.

“I’ll have Bucky give me the license plate number.”

“We were there for 5 minutes-” Sam protested.

Nat raised an eyebrow at him. “There was a strange car in the driveway of the house where you were taking Peter and you think he _ didn’t _memorize the license plate number?”

Sam huffed a sigh. “Now you just make it sound like I’m slacking,” he complained.

“Look into him,” Steve said firmly. “But not a word to May unless we find something. Peter?”

Peter sniffed. “I got it,” he mumbled. He felt a tiny bit better- his pack, at least, had his back.

Natasha wandered over and ruffled his hair. “If he’s even the slightest bit sketchy they will never find the body,” she said soothingly.

Peter wasn’t sure if he was more horrified or reassured. “Thanks Nat,” he said anyway. She meant well.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I’m totally/shamelessly stealing the movies here from the fic ‘Steve Rogers at 100: Celebrating Captain America on Film’. You can read the full fan-fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599293 I just couldn’t resist. They’re all so awful/perfect and hilarious. 
> 
> Can I just say that it’s just pretty much the WORST thing ever when you’re emotionally furious but logically there's reasons that you shouldn't be? It’s just awful and it sucks.


	40. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes we make poor life choices. They may be years ago, they may be days ago. Tony has made them all. And some of them are coming back to bite him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get yourself a snack and strap yourselves in. I’m about to drop kick us from orbit back into Plot. Don’t worry. I told you this will be a happy story and it will be. We just have to break through the atmosphere to reach a new Story Arc, that’s all. A little turbulence and generalized screaming is to be expected. 
> 
> Also, I’m tired of dicking around. This COULD be two chapters (prob 3 to be honest), but we need to be moving along. So I’m putting the pedal to the metal here and just blazing ahead- this is going to be my longest chapter yet. 
> 
> Tags:  
Eating disorders. This one I know is a big one, and I don’t want anyone to accidentally trigger themselves, especially now. If need be, you can skip the section starting from when Cho wants to weigh Peter, and start back up when Tony and Cho start talking about yoga. Take care yourselves friends. I’ll put a bare basics “too long, didn’t read” summary thing in the end note so you won’t miss anything. 
> 
> Also- minor panic attack. 
> 
> Editing? Bitch this thing is 70+ fucking pages. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

_What am I going to do with Harley?_

The thought ran through his mind on an almost endless loop. He managed to push it back long enough to function at the gala. He was good at that, at least. He smiled at the right people, chuckled at the stupid jokes of senators, and shook hands with a couple of rock stars and a hollywood actor he wasn’t quite sure the name of.

The auction went well- several millions dollars were raised for Omega shelters. Which was good.

It was great.

_But what on earth was he going to do about Harley?_

His mother had been incredibly clear: Keep Clear of The Boy. Let Him Be Normal. I Don’t Want Your Money.

The usual song and dance.

(Seriously- what WAS it with these women?)

Not that he couldn’t fight a restraining order in court. He had whole buildings full of lawyers for such things.

But Pepper would personally hang him from his toes off the side of the Tower if he did such a thing. Entire PR departments would probably quit. “Destitute Mother Serves Restraining Order Against Tony Stark on Behalf of Small Boy” is what the headlines would scream. For weeks possibly. Or worse. “Destitute Mother Pleads With Court to Protect Small Boy From Pervert Billionaire”- is definitely what the Bugle would lead with.

And she would. Tony had lived in this world too long to not be able to read people. She would totally take him to court, weep a bit, and win hands down.

Tony huffed in the darkness of the bedroom and fiddled with Steve’s shirt, running his fingers back and forth along the collar, feeling the soft fabric.

Steve enveloped his hand with his own and leaned over so he could kiss Tony’s hair.

“What’s gotten into you, my omega?” Steve murmured quietly. “You’ve been fidgety even more than usual tonight.”

“I’m not,” Tony spat back rather more forcefully than he’d intended. His right foot was shaking, he realized. He tried to stop it.

It only made it worse.

Tony huffed again and moved to get up, but Steve pulled him back. “What happened?” he asked firmly.

“Nothing,” Tony said. He could almost feel Steve’s answering frown in the dark.

“Tony-” Steve said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “How many times have you told me you hate it when omegas say nothing is wrong when there’s actually something wrong?”

“This is different,” he muttered.

“Talk to me,” Steve said.

“It’s just... a problem I don’t see a solution for,” Tony said finally.

“A problem?” Steve asked, worried.

“It’s nothing you’ve done,” Tony said quickly. “Nothing you can solve. Just... something I need to deal with. People issues.”

Steve considered this. “Did someone do something-” he asked, his tone dangerous.

“No-” Tony cut him off, seeing where his protective alpha was going. “It’s just...” he hesitated. How the fuck did he explain Harley? He couldn’t even remember if he’d been talking to Steve during the whole “I crashed in Tennessee and hid out in a child’s garage” phase of his life. Plus his memories were generally spotty. At least they were of things that wasn’t a brilliant boy that he was totally going to kidnap and hustle through MIT the second he turned 18.

Plus. You know. The whole ‘fighting terrorists armed with machine guns that also could shoot fire out of their hands’ with literal modified christmas ornaments and a taser like some fucked up adult version of Macaulay Culkin. While also being incredibly - _incredibly_ \- hungover.

_Fucking moonshine._

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for ‘the talk’ that would result from that particular revelation. It was a Known Thing that he’d taken down some terrorists. But the only people who knew that he’d done it sans suit with the contents of a Home Depot was himself, and Harley.

And Jarvis of course.

“Tony?”

Tony buried his face in Steve’s chest. “It is... _possible_ that I didn't handle a situation a 100 percent correctly years ago and it’s coming back to bite me in the ass,” he said softly. “I was just... _incredibly_ drunk at the time.”

Steve considered this. “Do we need to be worried?”

“No,” Tony said, then thought of North Korea. “Possibly.” Then he thought of restraining orders and Harley being brought in front of an angry Fury. Or whoever it was in charge of making sure ‘People Didn’t Hack/Piss off North Korea.’

He knew he could protect himself- even in front of the senate if need be. And SHIELD more or less has his back (maybe) these days. But he’d never had to shelter someone else from the fallout of a fuck up quite like this before. Just how far would “I’m Iron Man and you can fuck off” go _exactly_ before people, like say, the army- got involved?

“_Jesus Christ_ I need to build a time machine so I can go back and punch myself in the face,” he lamented, groaning. “Don’t EVER let me drink moonshine again.”

“I can do that,” Steve said gently. “And I have your back, you know that right? You’re my mate. Your troubles are my troubles.”

That... he’d forgotten about that honestly. He’d been fighting on his own for so long, he sometimes forgot he had a pack behind him...

Maybe he was approaching this wrong. Maybe this was something he should dump on Natasha.

_Could_ he dump it on Natasha? She, after all, was not him. She could talk to the boy possibly without the mother ever knowing. She was sneaky like that. Something like this was completely up her alley.

Just have her swing by and tell the kid to knock it off?

He worried a lip. Tried to imagine his dad sending someone by- actually no, he didn’t have to imagine, come to think of it. Jarvis had been sent a time or two to bail him out of jail for stupid shit like DUIs. Once it had been a junior member of his staff. Like Tony was another chore- a dry cleaning pick up run of sorts.

He winced at the memory.

Nope. That wouldn’t work. Because nothing says “I don’t care” quite like sending a random stranger over to lecture a kid. Like he wasn’t even worth the time to yell at properly, was the overall feeling he remembered having at the time.

At the time, it had only made him want to fuck something up even bigger just to see if he could a rile out of his old man. To get his _attention_.

Tony didn’t really want to see what Harley considered to be a step up from hacking North Korea. What would the kid do? _Actually _build a nuclear reactor?

.....

....

SHIT.

Hadn’t he read about a boy scout who had done just that in his garage somewhere? Or at least, had been working on one before he’d been shut down?

Of course. This was Harley. It wasn’t like he was a _crazy _scientist. He was just a teenager. With a garage. And a genius level IQ. He was also wildly- no- _insanely_ unsupervised.

(What was the difference between that and a mad scientist again?)

No. Don’t think like that. Harley wasn’t just a kid. He was a Good Kid. He wouldn’t purposefully build a nuclear reactor in the middle of a... a well spaced out and rural neighborhood.... That was just surrounded by .... farms. Just so many farms. And hardly _any_ people-

_Stop it. _

Tony was overreacting. Clearly. Obviously.

I mean- he was in bumfucknowhere Tennessee.

Where would he even get the _uranium_?

It wasn’t like there was a uranium deposit in Tennessee. The kid couldn’t just... go out and dig it up and bring it home in a little red wagon. Nevermind that he could see Harley doing _exactly_ that. He didn’t need to worry because there was _no_ uranium in Tennessee.

Right?

Right.

But there was some in Virginia if he remembered right...

Maybe- maybe he should have Jarvis look for an uptick in background radiation in Tennessee just in case?

His foot twitches, that had been subsiding, ticked back up again and now went up to his knee.

Steve huffed. “_Enough_, omega,” he said firmly. “**Settle**. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Tony felt his body slacken at the order even as Steve hugged him closer and rumbled. He could almost feel the tension leaving his joints that he hadn’t even known was there. His foot stilled, and he let out a stressed sigh. Steve was lucky he smelled so good, Tony thought irritably. He grumbled a bit to express his displeasure.

Steve gently stroked Tony’s scent glands with a thumb, and it was like someone put his brain in a blender- _what the hell..._

“Shh...” Steve whispered.

The next time Tony opened his eyes he was drooling into a pillow, it was morning, and the space next to his on the bed was glaringly empty. He stumbled out of bed, into the bathroom, and took his scent blocker.

He frowned. He was going to do something today. He’d been worried about something. He was going to have Jarvis... look for something? He rubbed his face tiredly.

It came to him in the shower.

_Harley. Nuclear reactors. _

He cut the shower.

“Jarvis?” he shouted.

“Yes sir?” Jarvis answered.

“Do a scan on Tennessee. See if there’s been any increase in background radiation. Especially on and around Rose Hill.”

Jarvis was silent for a moment. “Is Harley in trouble, sir?” the machine almost sounded worried.

“I hope not. Do a records check just in case. See if anything pops up,” Tony said.

“Of course sir.”

Tony paused. “And keep a lid on it. I don’t want to share this yet.”

“Certainly sir.”

Tony was doing a few touch ups on his beard when Jarvis got back to him. “I have scanned the databases of several federal agencies. None report any increase in background radiation. There is no record of Harley Keener in the state police databases.”

“What about local police?”

“They are not attached to any system that I can see. Their arrest records however, are, and Harley is not listed there.”

“SHIELD?”

“Nothing sir.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

“There was, however, a significant explosion near Rose Hill sometime yesterday afternoon.”

Tony frowned and for a second his chest constricted. “Explosion?”

“Locals believe it to be a meth lab. The property belongs to a known drug dealer-”

Tony relaxed again. “Disregard it. That wouldn’t be Harley.”

“Of course sir. Shall I do anything else in regards to this matter?”

Tony pursed his lips and considered his own reflection.

“Remind me- how old is he again?” he asked.

“Harley James Keener was born December 26, 2002, making him 17 years old as of today.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “A Christmas baby, huh?” he muttered. 17? Already? Jesus, time flew by. He’d thought the kid was 16 maybe. But 17? And his birthday was in December? That meant Harley turned 18 in only a few short months-

“Sir, Christmas is traditionally celebrated-”

“I know Jarvis,” Tony snorted. “Tell you what- remind me on December 1st to start getting a floor ready for him in the tower.”

Jarvis was silent for a moment. “Sir, the deadline to file an MIT application for the fall 2020 semester is January 1st. According to the website, he will require recommendations from both a math teacher and a language arts-”

Jesus Christ, Jarvis sometimes creeped even him out at how well the machine practically read his mind sometimes.

“Yeah. We’re skipping that,” Tony said loftily. “Have someone get in touch with MIT and see if they’ve got any new buildings they want fully funded.” He paused. “Or a commencement speech. Something. Whatever. No limit.”

“And what shall I say are your conditions?”

“I want two kids with their butts in MIT branded seats. One for fall 2020 and one-” he did some mental math. “In 2021. I’ll pay their tuition up front for both of them, in addition to whatever buildings they want.”

Jarvis was quiet for another moment as he processed. “Sir, it occurs to me that Peter might not wish to attend-”

Tony shrugged. “And that will be up to him. In the meantime, it’s better to get things started now. Don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier-” he muttered. “And see if there’s any buildings or houses near the campus for sale - actually nix that. Have someone look into the buildings around campus. I want something close to campus but securable. Even if it’s not listed for sale we can make an offer. I want it closed and in our possession by this summer so I can do security upgrades,” he paused, “Don’t worry about condition. If need be we’ll just tear the whole thing down and construct new. I want somewhere for them to live that they can walk to campus from so that if things go sideways they can reach a panic room easily.”

“Yes sir. I will assign someone from the properties department.”

“And the heat room for Peter? How’s construction on that going?”

“The foreman anticipates that construction will be completed sometime in the next two weeks.”

Tony hummed happily and wiped the rest of the shaving cream off his face. Everything was coming together. Soon all of his pups would be in one place- and December wasn’t that far off anyway. If North Korea and Fury hadn’t found him by now, he was fine. So Harley could stay where he was. Besides- how much trouble could one pup get into in a few months anyway?

Speaking of pups-

“Where’s Peter?” he asked.

“He is currently in the MedBay. They are taking his casts off.”

“What- already?”

“Yes sir,” Jarvis said.

Tony cursed and threw on some clothes.

They weren’t hard to find in the MedBay. All he had to do was follow the sound of arguing.

“What’s going on-” Tony demanded as he rounded a corner. He did a double take. The kid had... blue hair? WTF?

“What the hell- who the hell did you let dye your hair?” Tony demanded. “And are those _fake lashes_?”

“Darcy did it and I don’t need splints! I’m fine!” Peter said peevishly, sitting on a gurney. His casts were off and Steve stood next to him looking exasperated. The lashes and just... way too much eyeliner made Peter look like some sort of Disney character.

“Okay, first of all, if you wanted your hair dyed I could have had Ramon do it. And second of all- if the doctor says you need a splint, then you’re getting a splint.”

“But it’s been like 5 days, and I always heal in like 4- I don’t _need_ a splint-” Peter complained bitterly.

Tony frowned. “What do you mean you heal in 4 days?” he asked suspiciously.

Cho walked in, holding an X-ray. “I hear we don’t want a splint?” she asked.

“I don’t need one. I’m_ fine_.” Peter said instantly.

“Well we took an X-ray before we got started so let’s take a look at it,” she said cheerfully as if she dealt with whiny children everyday. She shoved it in a lightbox and flipped a switch revealing an x-ray of an arm.

“Now let’s see. Your fingers are all done. That’s good,” she pointed a pen at a place on the x-ray. “But see here? There’s a line here. And here. That means your bone still has cracks in it.”

Peter scowled. “What line?” he demanded. “I don’t see a line.”

Tony’s jaw just about dropped. What the hell was going on- and where the fuck had this attitude come from?

“Okay. Stop. Enough. Give us a minute, would you?” Tony declared.

Cho nodded and left.

“You too babe-”

“Tony-” Steve protested.

“Nope. Out. Go hang outside the door I need to talk to the kid.”

Steve looked uncertain, but left. Tony leaned against the gurney and studied him. He’d hunched up himself a bit, but it didn’t take an expert to see that Peter was upset. Angry? No. Resentful maybe?

“So... you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Peter huffed and the resentment increased by like a hundred percent. “Why does everyone think something’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Well, for one thing, your hair is blue. And I’ve got to say Pete, I’m not a 100% a fan of this attitude thing you’ve got going on. You were incredibly rude to Cho just now. Which is not like you.”

Peter hunched in on himself more. Tony considered various possibilities. “You know that a splint means you can use your fingers again, right? No more need for us to give you showers.”

Peter sniffed and shrugged listlessly. Okay. So not it... whatever it was had happened last night maybe? He’d gone to see his aunt for more clothes...

“Is this because you want to go back to May’s?” he asked, crossing his arms. “You think you can go back if your arms are healed?”

Peter flinched a tiny bit and found a new spot on the floor to stare at.

“_Can_ I go back if my arms are healed?” Peter asked.

Hmm. Close but not it.

“No. Cho is still worried about your hormone levels. I want that to level out a bit first. Plus with what happened at Target- I don’t want you going out without some sort of training. Steve said he’ll have Natasha start training you when your arms are better.”

Peter perked up. “I’m gonna train with Natasha?”

“When _Cho_ says your arms are better.”

Peter deflated again.

“So, again. What is it? Talk to me. Because this whole thing-” Tony waved at him, “Isn’t you. And to be honest, it doesn’t suit you _at all_.”

Peter stared at the floor some more. Tony waited patiently.

It took a couple of minutes but Peter cracked like an egg.

“May... she has a boyfriend,” he said quietly.

“And what- he’s a douchebag?” Tony asked.

“Yesterday was their sixth month anniversary,” he said. “She- she never told me about him. I wouldn’t have even known except I walked in on them on the couch-”

Tony winced inwardly, but kept his neutral face on. “And?”

Peter glared at him. “She _lied_ to me! All she talks about is honesty and how I need to tell her things and- and SHARE and she somehow forgets to mention that she’s seeing someone?”

“You think she’s a hypocrite.”

“YES!” Peter exploded.

“So that means you get to be rude to Cho?”

Peter collapsed back on himself faster than a dying star turning into a black hole. He looked miserable again.

“Because trust me when I tell you I get it- I do. I don’t think my Dad ever told me the truth about anything. And I did the whole ‘angry at the world’ thing. The only thing that got me was a rap sheet and a bunch of crashed cars.”

“But-”

“I’m not saying you can’t be angry. I’m saying-” Tony sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “You can be angry and not be an asshole. Well. Not to innocent people anyway. Cho hasn’t done anything but her job. Which- last time I checked, she’s qualified to read X-rays and you are _not_.”

Peter stewed.

Tony let him.

“You... you wouldn’t lie to me, right?” Peter asked hesitantly.

Tony shrugged. “That depends.”

Peter looked shocked. “What?”

“There are some things you’re not old enough to know. Pack things. Some Avengers things. Things you don’t need to worry about. And there’s clearance stuff. You know by now how that works. So will I lie to you on purpose? Yes. But only if I have a damn good reason or if it keeps you safe.”

“You just can’t tell me that you can’t tell me?” Peter asked indignantly.

“A vast majority of the time I will,” Tony said calmly.

Peter considered the floor. “Do you like my hair?” he asked suddenly.

Well that was the most obvious ‘shit test’ he’d ever seen. The kid was being about as subtle as a brick to the face. He only managed to keep a straight face because of years of practice.

Tony shrugged. “I think Ramon can make it look amazing. But if ‘I did it myself in the dark at 2am’ is the look you’re going for-”

“But do you _like _it?”

“Now? No. But I might like it more when it fades a bit. The color isn’t quite right for your skin tone right now.”

Peter looked slightly mollified. “And the people at the gala?” he pushed.

“What about them?”

“What did they say about your shirt?”

Tony pursed his lips. He’d been hoping the kid would forget about that. He considered and sighed. It wasn’t worth lying about. Especially not after that little speech he just gave.

“They didn’t like it.”

Peter did a double take. “What?”

“They didn’t like it.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes. You want to see? I filmed it.”

“No- no. It’s fine,” Peter said. “I believe you.”

“You sure you don’t want to see a cute girl telling me to my face my taste sucks?” Tony deadpanned. “This is a one time offer kid. Take it or leave it.”

Peter looked torn, then broke. “Okay, I totally do.”

Tony showed him the video on his phone.

By the end of it the teen was giggling. “I told you!” he said.

“I hope you’re enjoying this because this moment won’t happen again,” Tony said with only a hint of false bitterness.

“Are you kidding me? It’s totally going to happen again when you fall on your butt when you try to swing!”

“Uh huh,” Tony said. “You ready to listen to Cho now?”

Peter looked chagrined. “I... yeah,” he said quietly.

“Great talk. We’re _never_ doing it again, you understand?” Tony said pointedly.

Peter flushed. “Yes Omega,” he muttered.

Tony hummed judgmentally, which made Peter flush even more. “I’ll take it. _This time_,” he said ominously, and opened the door. “He’s ready to be civilized again,” he said into the hallway.

Cho and Steve came back in. Tony pointedly raised an eyebrow at Peter.

“I- I’m sorry Cho-”

Tony cleared his throat. Loudly.

“- Doctor Cho,” Peter corrected himself. “I’ll- I’ll wear the splints,” he finished quietly.

The kid had barely looked at her the entire time, but judging from the flush of his cheeks the kid was visibly dying of embarrassment as it was. Cho for her part looked like she was doing her best to hide amusement.

“I accept your apology, and thank you for listening to me. I only want to help you get healthy, you know that right?” she said seriously.

Peter looked even more miserable. “Yes ma’am.”

“Then what color do you want?”

“Not red,” Peter said instantly.

As Cho smiled and dug into a drawer, Tony became aware of someone staring at him. He turned and found Steve just... staring at him like he was some long lost treasure or something.

“What?” he demanded.

Steve just kept smiling at him like an idiot and leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Great job with the kid babe,” he murmured in Tony’s ear.

Tony huffed a bit in embarrassment and shrugged. “Did you clean out your floor yet?” he asked.

Steve blinked. “It’s not even lunch time-” he said mildly.

“You get up at 3, how is it not done yet?” he mock complained.

Steve snorted a laugh. “I get up at 5-” he protested.

“3:30.” Tony countered.

Now it was Steve’s turn to huff. “It’ll get done,” he said.

“Good. Because I need the floor.”

Steve frowned at him. “What?”

“I’ve got something I’m working on and I need the floor,” Tony said simply. He didn’t know why he didn’t think of it earlier. No need to convert an empty floor for Harley when he could just slap a new coat of paint on Steve’s. The kid could redecorate or whatever when he moved in. Brilliant.

Steve frowned at him. “For what?”

Tony shrugged. “A project.”

“It’s not a new lab, is it?” Steve asked warily.

“No.”

“Peter when was the last time we weighed you?” Cho asked.

Peter shrugged. His new splints were a dark blue.

“Well why don’t we get it while we’re here,” she said. The scale was in a corridor, so everyone trooped out of the room and down a couple of halls.

“Don’t forget to make my hammock,” Tony said as Peter stepped on the scale.

“I’ll get Bucky and Sam AND Clint to help,” Steve said.

“If Clint makes the hammock I want you to sit in it first,” Tony said dourly.

“I’ll make him sit in it,” Steve soothed.

Cho looked at the number on the scale and frowned. Tony frowned at her frown. He couldn’t see the display from where he was standing.

She consulted her tablet and tapped on it a few times. She did NOT look happy at all.

“Is something wrong?” Tony asked.

“Peter, let's go back to the exam room, alright?” Cho chirped, suddenly pleasant. Too pleasant.

Tony watched her with growing suspicion as she had Peter sit on the exam table and listened intently to his heart then his lungs for way too long.

“Can I see your hands?” she asked.

Obviously puzzled, Peter nevertheless obeyed.

Cho stared his fingers, and minutely examined his fingernails.

Now even Tony was baffled.

She carefully ran a hand up his upper arms. “I’m going to lift your shirt a bit, Peter,” she said, then did the same thing for his back.

“Cho?” Tony demanded.

“Don’t panic. It’s probably nothing, but I’m just going to get someone for a second opinion. Please stay here,” she said and flashed a smile then left.

“Tony?” Peter sounded uncertain.

“Hey- she said not to panic. So I’m not panicking, alright?” Tony said instantly. “So you shouldn’t worry either,” Tony lied.

A good ten minutes later Cho returned, trailing a trim blonde alpha behind her.

“Everyone, this is Doctor Fox. Doctor Fox, this is Peter, Mr. Stark, and Captain Rogers,” Cho said.

Fox nodded at everyone, and greeted Peter with a large smile. “Hello Peter. I understand you’ve been having some health troubles lately?”

“You could say that,” Tony said darkly, and tried to rack his brain for who the hell this guy was. He couldn’t remember ever seeing him before in the MedBay.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s alright, I’d like to give you a quick once over, okay?”

Peter looked timidly at Tony, who nodded. “We’re going to be right here Pete,” he said.

“Okay,” Peter said but he didn’t sound happy about it.

The new doctor was... thorough. Almost suspiciously so. He listened to Peter’s heart and lungs, had him stick out his tongue, the usual stuff. But he also pulled down on Peter’s lower eyelids and did the odd finger inspection. He also carefully examined Peter’s back and upper arms.

He hummed. Tony didn’t like it’s tone.

“Have you done an echo cardiogram?” he asked Cho.

“Yes. He has birth defects, but he was cleared by a cardiologist.”

“When was that?”

“Within the last week.”

“And his weight as of today?”

Cho wordlessly handed him a tablet. He read it, and - Tony could tell- very carefully did not react to it. He turned back to Peter with an easy smile and sat down on one of those wheelie doctor chairs, making himself significantly shorter than Peter.

“So Peter, I’m going to ask you some questions. Before we start, I’m going to declare this a judgement free zone, alright? There are absolutely _no_ wrong answers here. And what we talk about will stay in this room. Okay?”

Confused, Peter nodded. “Okay?” He looked questioningly again at Tony who nodded reassuringly.

“So. I know that the last couple of weeks have been kinda crazy, so let’s talk about before that. Walk me through your day,” he said, and made ready to take notes.

Peter’s eyes again darted to Tony.

“Tell him whatever he asks, kid,” Tony said. “He works in the MedBay so he has clearance.”

Peter relaxed a little. “I guess I get up and go to school-”

“Do you eat breakfast?”

“Sometimes.”

“What do you eat?”

“A bowl of cheerios.”

“And when you don’t?”

“A couple of granola bars I guess.”

The man carefully went through Peter’s entire day. And the further they went, the more horrified Tony became. One small bowl of cheerios (sometimes) for breakfast. Two PB&J sandwiches for lunch with an apple and a soda. Raisins (that he didn’t eat). For an after school snack he had two of those little single serving things of yogurt and some pretzels (but sometimes a cookie). For dinner he had a single plate of whatever his Aunt had made. And before bed he would have a single serve sized bag of chips, but only sometimes because his Aunt used those for her lunch. On special occasions he would have chips with his lunch too. But again, only a single serving of them.

By the time they’d reached Peter swinging around like a madman for several hours at night and him having two burritos from a food stand, Steve was grimly holding Tony’s hand.

No wonder the kid was so small. He ate less than _Tony_ did. And he was enhanced. How the _fuck_ was he still _upright_?

“And that’s it? No other snacks? No cookies, cakes, ice cream?” Dr. Fox asked. “Judgement free zone here, remember?”

Peter looked guilty. “I... when I come to the tower I sometimes eat Clint’s ice cream,” he admitted.

“Oh? What kind of ice cream is it?” the doctor asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“Ben and Jerry’s. It’s the Chunky Monkey one.”

“In a pint?”

Peter nodded.

“And you eat the whole thing?”

Peter flushed. “Not all the time!” he protested.

Jesus Christ, this kid was going to kill him, Tony thought distantly. He was basically starving to death and he was worried about _sometimes_ eating _part_ of Clint’s motherfucking ice cream.

“And how often, on average, would you say that you throw up?” Dr. Fox said super casually, and Tony just about felt his heart drop through the floor.

_ Please say never please say never please say- _

Peter looked puzzled. “Throw up?”

The doctor nodded. “Do you remember the last time you vomited?” he asked, again super casually. As if this were a perfectly normal question to ask a teenager.

An incredibly skinny teenager, Tony suddenly realized. Had the kid’s cheekbones always been that... pronounced?

How the fuck had he missed this?

_How the FUCK had everyone missed this? _

Peter considered. “I guess... a few days ago?” 

Tony’s stomach dropped even further. 

“Do you remember why?” 

“My bones were doing like a thing- it really really hurt-” Peter said, shifting uncomfortably. 

“Your bones?” Dr. Fox asked. 

“His healing factor was snapping his bones back in place after he broke them,” Steve said. “It’s a thing. Hurts like a bitch. We had to put him on morphine.” 

Dr. Fox winced. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. What I want to know is- is puking something you do often? Do you have trouble keeping your food down after you eat it?”

“Not really-” Peter said. 

“Oh? Can you tell me about a time that food made you sick?”

“I tried a new burrito stand like a month ago and it made me sick,” Peter said.

“Do the burritos often make you sick?” Dr. Fox asked.

Peter shook his head. “I’ve got a regular cart I go to. Maria’s a nice lady. She always gives me extra guac for free ever since I scared off a robber. But she was closed that day.”

Tony did his best to make his sigh of relief as non-noticeable as possible. Steve squeezed Tony’s hand reassuringly.

“Let's go back to the Tower. When you visit, do you eat anything other than Clint’s ice cream?”

“I have whatever Steve brings us,” Peter said. “He always makes me two big plates.”

“Do you eat all of it?”

“Yeah. Working in the lab makes me hungry.”

“Are you hungry when you eat lunch at school?”

“Well, yeah,” Peter said it like this was obvious.

“And after you’re done eating at school, are you still hungry? Or do you feel full?”

Peter went suddenly, ominously quiet and shrunk a bit in on himself. He stared at the floor and shrugged.

Tony wasn’t sure how to interpret that. If he was anything like Steve, of course he would still be hungry- so why didn’t he pack _more_?

“Do you get cold often?” Dr. Fox switched tracks so quickly even Tony was caught off-guard.

“I’m always cold, except for when I’m in my suit,” the teenager complained.

The suit has a heater, Tony thought distantly.

“Even now?”

Peter shrugged.

“You’re wearing short sleeves.”

“I’m used to it,” Peter said.

“Have you ever been measured before?” Dr. Fox asked.

“Tony did once. For the suit.”

“I have them on file,” Tony said helpfully. “I had Jarvis do it.”

“Do you mind if I do them again?” he asked.

Peter shrugged. He looked a bit baffled. “Sure?”

“Hop down and face the wall, please.”

Dr. Fox pulled a flexible measuring tape from his pocket, and went to work. He did Peter’s waist, his wrists, his biceps and his chest. He did not, Tony noticed, announce the numbers. He simply showed the tape with his thumb on it to Cho, who would nod and write them down.

“Are my biceps bigger?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know Peter. I don’t have the old numbers,” he said, instantly but gently dismissive. He threw a pointed look at Tony, and put a finger to his lips behind the boy’s back.

Tony nodded jerkily. Until they got a better handle of what the hell was going on, Peter didn’t need to know his numbers. And Tony could look them up later. Any information would be loaded into Jarvis, and he had full access to Peter’s medical files.

“All done, you can have a seat.”

He waited for Peter to sit down again, and resumed his spot on his wheelie chair.

“So, let’s talk. How would you describe yourself Peter?”

Peter looked baffled for a moment. “I don’t know... smart maybe?”

“That’s good,” Dr. Fox looked amused. “I mean physically.”

Peter shrugged. “Short,” he said. Tony did not miss the underlying bitterness there.

“Anything else?”

Peter considered himself critically as if he’d never seen his own body before. “Skinny, I guess? But... I have muscles?”

Dr. Fox nodded. “And how do you feel about that?”

“I wish I was taller,” Peter said instantly. “But.. there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Dr. Fox considered him critically. “How would you feel if I told you that Doctor Cho and I think that you could weigh... more?”

Peter frowned at him. “What... you mean like my muscles be bigger? I tried doing pushups for like a month straight once and it didn’t really make a difference-”

“Just more. Overall. Doesn’t have to be muscle mass.”

Peter frowned. “I dunno? I guess another 5 pounds or so won’t hurt, right?”

“That would be a good start,” Dr. Fox agreed quickly. “Can you think of a way to help make that happen?”

Peter frowned in thought. "I don't know," he said.

"What if I told you I wanted you to eat more?"

Peter eyed him suspiciously. "You mean like an extra snack? I guess I could have another apple at lunch," he offered. He seemed skeptical of the idea.

Dr. Fox bit his lip.

"Peter. I'm going to be very blunt with you alright? You're not eating enough. Not even close to what you should be."

"I'm not?" He sounded surprised.

"No."

"How much should I be eating?"

"At least twice what you're eating now. Three times if you intend to gain weight."

"What- three times- I... I- are you serious?” Peter turned to Tony, eyes wide. “Is he serious?”

“I’m very serious Peter. Even if you were a normal beta male who did, say, competitive gymnastics, I would say that you were not eating enough. But you are much more than that. You have a healing factor, right?”

“I- yeah-”

“Have you noticed yourself healing slower than normal?”

Peter blinked. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with-”

“But it does,” Fox said patiently. “Healing is serious work for your body that requires many calories. Your nails- have they always broken so easily?”

Peter was starting to look slightly horrified. “No...”

“When you brush your hair, is there an unusual amount of hair on your comb?”

Peter stared at him with wide eyes. “How did you know-”

“And you are cold. All the time.”

“Because I sometimes don’t eat breakfast?” Peter asked, astonished.

“And you are covered in down.”

“What?!”

“It’s a fine hair your body produces in an attempt to keep you warm.”

“But... that’s just puberty. Right? You get hairy when you grow up-”

“Peter. _Enough_,” Steve said firmly. “You do not eat enough. You need to eat more. Stop arguing.”

Peter blinked and suddenly went teary-eyed. “But...”

Doctor Fox waved Steve off. “Can you talk to me Peter? Why are you so upset?”

“But... I-” Peter looked lost for words for a moment. “I- I _can’t_ eat more,” he lamented.

“Why?” Fox asked curiously.

Peter’s eyes darted to Tony and to the floor. “I just... can’t-”

“Do you not like having a full stomach? Is it uncomfortable for you?”

“No-”

Fox considered him. “Would it alarm you to know that in the last three weeks you’ve lost over 10 pounds?”

Peter blinked, surprised, and Tony felt like someone had punched him in the gut. 10 pounds? WTF?

“So? I’ve weighed 100 before-”

“Right now you are sitting at 93.”

It was like his breath just left him. What the _hell _was going on- he started to get up, filled with righteous fury, but Steve tugged him back into his seat.

“Steve-” Tony hissed, somewhere beyond anger now.

“Sit,” he ordered.

“_Steve_-” Tony protested.

“You’re too angry right now. You’ll just upset him.”

“Tony’s mad at me?” Peter asked, sounding very small.

“I’m FURIOUS-” Tony spat.

“No- he’s not mad at you- he’s upset that you are hurting,” Steve said, and pointedly squeezed Tony’s leg in warning to stay put. He stood and walked over to Peter, and perched half a hip onto the exam table.

“Look at me,” Steve said softly. “Everyone here is very worried about you Peter. You’re not eating. Please. Explain it to me.”

Peter again glanced nervously at Tony.

“Hey. It’s going to be okay,” Steve said, and gathered Peter up for a hug. “Just... talk to us sweetheart.”

Peter just shook his head miserably.

“Is it... are you afraid of getting fat?” Steve asked quietly.

“No-” Peter protested.

Tony fidgeted in his chair. Steve or no Steve, he was going to slap some sense into that boy if he didn’t start talking soon.

The thought was followed by a moment of complete and utter silence in his brain as Tony realized that sounded exactly like something his father would do-- the anger fell right out of him and was replaced by a sudden horrible sick feeling in his stomach.

Steve, meanwhile, was studying Peter as if seeing him for the first time. He touched the shirt Peter was wearing. It was an old baggy t-shirt with holes in the collar. It was frankly well past the point that most people would have thrown it out.

“Peter-” Steve said slowly, as if trying not to spook a wild forest animal. “Is... is May having trouble paying for things? Is that why you can’t eat more? Do you think she can’t afford it?”

The sudden horrible, awful silence from Peter all but confirmed it. The boy had gone stiff in Steve’s arms.

“Peter?” Steve prompted.

“I... I ate too much,” Peter said softly. “I... they said I couldn’t eat so much. And then Ben- and now we’re down to just May’s paycheck and we have to be careful with our money-”

“Peter-”

“I mean- I’m _fine_. May checked. She said my BMI was low, but I’m okay-”

“Does May know?” Tony asked sharply, rising to his feet. “That you’re going hungry?”

Peter flushed. “I told you- I... I used to eat too much-”

“And you were told to knock it off,” Steve said quietly. He sighed deeply. “I had a major once yell at me for taking three plates at mess. Made me put them back. The guys split their trays with me. Took a while to get someone to get him to back off. I’m sorry Peter. I know- it feels awful. Like your taking more than your share. But you _need _it honey. Your body needs it.”

“Captain Rogers is right. And the BMI scale is intended for a vast majority of people, it’s true. But it doesn’t work when you apply it to elite athletes or bodybuilders or- in your case- a human with... different abilities. Take Captain Rogers for example- sir, if I may, how much do you weigh?” Fox asked.

“240,” Steve said without hesitation.

“Now if I applied the BMI scale to him, that would put him in the ‘severally obese’ category. Does he look fat to you Peter?”

Peter gaped. “What? No! He’s like... the opposite of fat-” he protested.

“And the same applies to you. You said you tried push ups for a month- was that before or after you started eating less?”

“It... it was after.”

“And that’s why you didn’t see improvement. Because you weren’t taking in enough calories. I’ll bet you anything once you start eating you’ll get stronger. Might even grow a bit,” Fox said.

Peter looked like he’d been smacked with a two by four. “You... you think I’ll grow taller?” he asked. He sounded like Fox had just told him that the unicorn he’d always wanted would be delivered on Monday.

“You might. I think it’s worth a shot. Don’t you Peter?” Fox said.

Peter looked hopeful- and then deflated. “But... May-”

“_I_ will talk with May and we’ll deal with it,” Tony said firmly.

“But-”

“Nope. Not hearing it. The adults will deal with it and Baby Spiders will eat-” Tony stopped mid sentence and paused. “What should he eat? I mean- he’s like...” Tony stopped himself from saying ‘starving’- “malnourished right? He shouldn’t be eating pizzas and bagel bites. When I got back from Afghanistan the first burger I had made me sick afterwards-”

“Let’s talk about that,” Fox said with a smile.

It turned out that Fox was a doctor that specialized as a nutritionist specifically for security forces. (Tony had no idea that was even a thing or that he had one. Who knew?) Apparently the dozens of hyper fit men that Happy hired for security required specialized menus from the cafeteria and other ludicrous things.

Brochures appeared out of thin air that answered questions that Tony didn’t even know existed, like “just how much protein is _too much_ protein?” Negotiations followed over what Peter would and wouldn’t eat. Spinach apparently gave him gas and the kid threatened to throw any broccoli that appeared on his plate out the nearest window. Carrots were acceptable so long as they were served with ranch or roasted with honey. He liked chicken but had never had salmon or pretty much any fish that Tony could name (I mean, I eat fish sticks sometimes Tony. That’s fish right? And I had sushi that one time.)

It was amazing the child didn’t have rickets. Or scurvy. Or whatever it was that killed all those children in those Dickens novels he never got around to reading in high school.

He maybe, even _possibly_, understood now why Pepper had gone through a phase where she was constantly offering him brownies and cake. After a week he’d tracked down the chef and glared at him until he revealed that they all had pureed vegetables in them. Which, while better than the Xanax that he’d been suspecting, still felt... wrong.

But that was hardly going to stop him from calling someone and seeing if those recipes were still around somewhere. Maybe they could sneak in some of that vitamin powder Steve used in his smoothies too?

Eventually Steve took Peter away for yet more blood tests- this time to check for things like vitamin levels and... whatever. Fox led the way, talking animatedly about portion sizes.

Tony tapped Cho on the shoulder and she stayed behind in the room with him.

“Please- tell me how I missed this,” he begged. “For god’s sake Cho- I freakin’ bathed the kid like yesterday. We hung out in speedos. How did I not _see_ this?”

She sighed. “I missed it too until I saw the numbers on the scale. The only thing I can think of is he has overdeveloped muscles and for some reason his body has prioritized maintaining them. Usually they’re the first things to go when you’re starving. It’s probably why he’s been breaking bones lately. Nutrients have to come from _somewhere_ to maintain that-”

“So what- he’s got brittle bones or something now?” Tony demanded, horrified.

“Osteoporosis is a side effect of advanced weight loss, yes. I’ll have a specialist go over his X-rays again. It’s possible we missed something because we made assumptions about his enhancements.”

“Anything else?”

“Disruption of heat cycles. Anemia- which thankfully we haven’t seen yet, hair loss, blood sugar swings which might partially explain his mood swings. That can also cause fainting- it might be why he fell in the bathroom that one night-” she shook her head. “It’s going to be a while before we untangle this mess. While he had his casts on, did you help him go to the bathroom?”

“No, but I wasn’t always with him- Jarvis?”

“Peter was able to use the restroom without assistance,” Jarvis reported.

“Which means more than likely that he’s constipated too,” Cho said wearily. “You can’t move what isn’t there.”

Tony rubbed his face, and felt just... tired. And old. “It’s reversible, right? We just... stuff him with food and he’ll be fine, yes? Please tell me he’ll be fine.”

“Most likely. He’s young. And he’s enhanced. But until he’s back at a good weight I don’t want him doing anything strenuous. Another possible side effect is heart palpitations and a low pulse rate.”

Tony felt the blood drain from his face. “Are... are you serious?”

“Yes. And we’re going to need to be aggressive about this. I don’t know how fast he’ll put on weight. A normal heat cycle is stressful on the body even normally. Plus you usually lose a few pounds in the process-” she shook her head. “He can’t afford that now.”

Tony did some math in his head. “So we have 10 weeks to fatten him up?”

“Like a christmas goose,” Cho said grimly. “If he physically can’t eat enough we might have to consider some IV nutrition. He won’t like it though- it takes a while to infuse.”

“I’ll have Steve sit on him,” Tony vowed. “I’ll personally shove cheesecake down his throat if I have to.”

“I’d rather you convince him to take naps and eat a big snack every couple of hours between meals,” Cho said, mildly amused. “Maybe do some light yoga.”

Tony considered. “I’ll have to see if Nat knows it. I don’t.”

“The good news is that Bruce has cleared him for vitamins- and the work on clearing him for other things should speed up soon. He hired on some new graduate students and he’s having them work solely on clearing things for 'patient X'. I’m told that the current betting pool is leaning heavily on 'X' being a new member of the X-Men,” Cho said, and flashed a smile.

“Have we reached out to them at all? I keep feeling like we’re in the dark, trying to reinvent a wheel here-” Tony complained. “Taking care of a super teenager just _cannot_ be this hard- they have dozens of them in that mansion, for Christ’s sake, and we only have the one!”

“We’ve reached out. A Doctor...” she checked something on her tablet, “McCoy? Has tentatively responded. But they’re wary. Apparently ‘I’ve got a mutant kid with issues’ is a common ruse they get a lot.”

“Ruse?”

“To get information out of them about themselves. Understandably they’re a bit protective of their own. I don’t blame them.”

Tony nodded. He understood that all too well- _everyone_ had secrets, doubly so if you were in the business.

“Keep me up to date,” he said. “And Jarvis? Let HR know that Cho’s getting a raise.”

“Of course sir,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

“Mr. Stark-” Cho protested.

“Nope. I don’t want to hear it. This is the second time you’ve caught something and kept my pup from dying,” Tony said, on his way out the door. “Don’t fight me on this- you deserve it.”

“If you say so, Mr. Stark,” Cho said, flustered but pleased.

He found Steve and Peter at the blood draw station, where the technician was just finishing up.

“Hey- when’s the last time you ate?” Tony asked.

“I had cheerios a while ago,” Peter said.

“Was that your entire breakfast?” Steve asked, concerned. “I thought I was getting you a snack.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s what I normally have.”

Steve and Tony shared a look. “You want breakfast or lunch, kid?”

“I don’t know,” Peter said uncertainly.

“Why don’t you take him to the cafeteria and see what looks good. I’m gonna call May. And you-” he gave a pointed look at Peter. “I want you to eat until you feel full. Period. I don’t care if it takes you 10 plates. _Eat._” He paused. “And no bananas. You’re constipated enough already.”

Peter blinked then turned an incandescent shade of red. “_TONY!_” he protested, sputtering. “How the fuck do you even _know_ that-”

Behind him, Steve had a spontaneous coughing fit. He didn’t do a very good job of covering his laughter.

Tony leaned down over Peter ominously. “Because I’m the pack omega. It’s my _job_ to know these things,” he said with a firm poker face.

“Can you _stop_ knowing these things?” Peter demanded, offended and still red.

“Nope. It’s a curse. Go have an apple and a few prunes or something,” Tony said, and ruffled his hair.

Peter muttered rebelliously but Tony ignored it and stalked off. He had an Aunt to call.

He called May from the Penthouse. It took awhile for him to hype himself up for the conversation he was going to have to have with her.

Respectful. On point. No screaming. No finger pointing.

_He could do this. _

He pushed a button on his phone. Thankfully, she answered after the third ring.

“Hey May,” he said neutrally. “Thought I’d get in touch-”

“How upset is he?” May asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“About Gus?”

Tony blinked. “Who?”

“He... he didn’t mention that he walked in on me and Gus kissing last night?”

Ah. He’d almost forgotten about it to be honest.

“He ugh... dyed his hair blue.”

“_What?_”

“He dyed his hair blue. Darcy- that’s Bucky’s mate- stayed up with him last night and helped him dye his hair neon blue. It’ll grow out- I didn’t make a big deal about it. It’s better than a nose ring.”

There was some sputtering on her end. “Nose ring?”

“It’s what I did when I was his age,” Tony said dismissively. “Look. I know that that was probably awkward and weird, but we have bigger problems.”

“What happened?” she asked, alarmed.

Tony sighed and rubbed his face. “May... have you been making comments about how much he eats?”

There was a pause. “I... do sometimes,” she said cautiously. “He’s a teenager. He eats a lot. What does that have to do with anything?”

“May- actually he’s not eating enough.”

“What do you mean? His BMI is a little low-”

“He weighed in at 93 pounds this morning, May. Cho thinks he’s been breaking bones because he might have osteoporosis. He’s cold all the time. I just listened to a doctor go over his usual diet with him. He eats less than I do- and he has a jacked up metabolism due to his mutation. He needs to eat MORE. A lot more.”

“What? I- I don’t understand. _Osteoporosis?_ Are you serious?”

“The doctor says he needs to eat at least three times as much as he’s eating now if we’re to get him to gain weight.”

There was a sudden silence.

“May- there’s no gentle way to say this: he’s been eating like he is because he doesn’t think you have the budget for it.”

More silence.

“May?”

“I... I don’t know what to say,” May said softly. It sounded like she was crying. “I... I mean, I made some jokes about hollow legs- but he’s a teenage boy - who the hell hasn’t said that to a teenage boy?”

“May-” Tony said gently.

“And he’s right. I can’t afford that. Not even close. I can’t even afford the house we’re in right now. We’re behind- we’re going to have to move out. I just got the foreclosure notice yesterday,” May was word vomiting now. She sounded on the edge of hysteria. “I- Gus and I were talking about us moving in with him and how to introduce Peter to him and the girls, and just...”

Tony took a breath. Counted to 10. He would not scream obscenities at this woman about her and and stupid pride. She was obviously hurting. He would be _civil_. Right now, Peter was in his Tower. He was safe. He was eating. That’s what was important right now. He had to remember that. _Peter came first._

“May- I think it might be best that Peter stays with me for a month or two. It’ll give you a chance to figure things out and it’ll give him some... stability. If you want, I can have someone sit down and go over your finances with you, give you some options. I can also cut you a check. At _least_ let me get you current or help you with some movers or _something_. I won’t mention it to Peter.”

More silence.

“I know- I know. You said you didn’t want help. But it’s obvious that you need some now and it’s affecting Peter and he has to come first May.”

He waited.

“Okay,” it was quiet and sniffly, but it was there.

“May?”

“You’re right. I- I need time to figure this out. Thank you, for letting him stay with you. Just- _please_\- let _me _tell him that we’re moving.”

“Of course,” Tony said instantly, and mentally resigned himself to looking for therapists with security clearances in the very near future. “He’s welcome to stay for as long as you need it. I’ve always told him to consider the Tower to be his second home. When do you want me to send someone over?”

“Tony-” May sounded uncertain.

“May. I’m serious. At least let me buy you some time. Let me get you current and pay for maybe a couple of months. It’ll let you look for a new place or make arrangements to move in with-” he racked his brain, “Gus without so much stress. It will also give Peter some time to get used to the idea. Transition and- and whatever.”

Please say yes, he begged the universe. He was rapidly approaching his limit for “being an adult” and “being responsible” for not just the day but the entire month in general. Just... let her say yes.

He waited.

“His school-” May protested, but it was a token one. Tony bulldozed on ahead.

“We’ll figure it out. I can have someone drive him when he’s well enough to go. Worst case, I can arrange some tutors. Home school him. There’s only- what- two months left in the school year anyway. He can go back in the fall if that’s what you decide is best.”

He waited some more, bouncing silently on his toes. He was so close. He could taste it.

_Say yes say yes say yes_

“Okay,” May said quietly.

“Great. I’ll text you a number-” Jarvis would text her, “and you can call it and arrange a time for them to come to your house and run some numbers for you. I can also get you a realtor. Even if you do move in with Gus it might make sense for you to move into a new house together or... I don’t even know. At least let them help you look at all your options.”

“Okay,” May said quietly. She sounded sniffly again. “I... I need to call Gus.”

“Of course. You know my number. Call whenever. I’ll answer.”

“Tony- thank you,” May said quietly. She sounded like she meant it.

“Not a problem.”

May hung up and Tony let out a breath of air. “You hear that Jarvis? I need someone from accounting and properties to expect a call from May Parker-”

“I shall arrange something sir,” Jarvis said. “Shall I say she’s a family friend?”

“Sure,” he paused, “Make sure to get someone respectful.”

“Of course sir. I will say that is a matter of some delicacy.”

“Good. Are they still in the cafeteria?” Tony asked.

“Yes sir.”

He was so over being responsible. It was time to do something stupid to let off some steam. And he _had_ made that bet with Peter-

He found them in a corner of the cafeteria. They’d taken over a table meant for four people and just covered it in plates of various pastas. Tony grabbed a chair and a random piece of pizza off a plate.

“So- how’s it going?” he asked.

“I don’t know if this was a good idea, Tony,” Peter lamented. “I’m full already but I only had like one plate-”

“It was two actually. I dumped two together to save some space,” Steve interjected.

“Hey- it’s okay. Baby steps. Maybe you don’t eat big meals like Steve does. Maybe you’re more a grazer. We can try eating something every hour or so,” Tony said.

“It might be because you’re smaller,” Steve said. “It’s no shame to have a smaller stomach, Peter.”

“But-”

“No buts. We’ll figure it out,” Tony said. “No pressure. Also, I talked to May and we’ve agreed that you’re going to stay here with me for a couple of months until you’re closer to where you need to be weight wise.”

Peter sputtered. “What? Seriously? But- what about school?”

“I’ll get in touch with the district. We’ll figure something out. Worst case, I call in some favors and I get you some tutors and we homeschool. Plus- look at this way, you’ll have more lab time to work on your web formula. I saw that draft you did for the one that stops bleeding- that one has real potential Peter. Could change how EMS and battlefield medics work- save some lives too.”

Peter blushed. “It’s not much. I just... I used my webs once to see if it would stop the bleeding and it worked. Sorta.”

Steve choked a bit on a slice. “When was this?” he demanded. “You were bleeding?”

Tony frowned. “I, too, would like to hear this story,” he said seriously. “I don’t think I’ve heard this one.”

Peter shifted in his seat. “It was before you found me Tony. I was patrolling and this guy with a knife got... lucky. It wasn’t too bad. I just didn’t want May to wake up to find a blood trail to the bathroom so I webbed myself up and left it there until it healed. I hardly needed any gauze at all.”

“Are we talking about a stab wound here, or what?” Tony demanded.

Peter shrugged. “It was more a slash I guess? But it was long and kinda deep. Stung like a-” his eyes darted to Tony, “anything,” he finished lamely.

Both adults sighed.

“What? I lived- I’m fine-” Peter protested.

“Uh huh,” Tony said. “You want any of this to go? Steve needs to go clear his floor, and I’ve got this thing in the lab I want you to look at.”

“Clear his floor?” Peter asked, confused.

“I’ll have it done by dinner time,” Steve said.

“Good. I want everyone with their butts in chairs at the table by 6. None of this ‘I may be late’ crap from Clint either. We’ll start without him if we have to. I don’t want to mess with Peter’s eating schedule.”

Steve gave him a fond smile for some reason. “Of course.”

Tony picked a random empty plate, and put his slice on it. “Come on kid,” he said. “Grab a plate and let’s go.”

Peter obeyed, and they both stood. Steve, being Steve, insisted on giving Tony a kiss as they left. Tony allowed it, and only pretended to be grumpy about it.

“So what’s the thing?” Peter asked as they got in the elevator.

“What thing?”

“You know- the thing in the lab?”

“Oh that? I lied. Where’s your suit?”

Peter gaped at him. “You lied... to Steve?”

“Of course. Where’s your suit?”

“You shouldn’t lie for no reason, Tony-” Peter said, obviously concerned.

“I have a very good reason. Now listen carefully. Where. Is. Your. Suit?”

“It’s in my room?” Peter said, sounding confused. “But- my arms aren’t healed yet-”

Tony hummed. “You won’t be wearing it.”

“What?”

Tony frowned at him. “I’m fairly sure I remember you promising to film me totally nailing the whole ‘web swinging’ thing, right?”

Peter blinked rapidly. “What- now?” he asked, still sounding confused.

Tony shrugged. “Why not?”

*******

Peter wasn’t so sure about this day. One the one hand, his hair was pretty awesome. On the other hand, he still had fake lashes glued to his face. They were so long they tickled the bit just under his eyebrows when he had his eyes open. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Then there was the whole “you’re not eating enough” thing. That had been awful on several levels. May had always been firm about not talking about money to people outside the family- “It wasn’t their business.” But... then again- Tony and Steve were pack so... maybe he hadn’t disobeyed May?

He wondered how she was going to pay for his food. They were barely making it as it was... then again, Tony had said not to worry about it which meant that he’d help pay for it. If he could get May to accept it that is.

But now he got to stay in the tower- which _was_ pretty cool. And he had his hands back which meant he could go into the lab now. And also feed himself. Both definite pluses.

And now- as if this day wasn’t utterly ridiculous already, he stood at the side of an olympic sized swimming pool that he hadn’t even known existed somewhere in a basement level of the tower. There were diving boards and everything. Tony was standing on the highest one, wearing Peter’s spider suit, minus the mask.

Not that he had to wear the suit to use the web launchers, but Peter wasn’t about to tell Tony _that. _

It was... weird seeing someone else in the suit. Tony was definitely buffer- buffier?- bigger than him in the chest and bicep region. The suit, tailored for Peter’s slim build showed minute signs of strain at the seams at the shoulders.

Tony stood on the platform and idly stretched.

“You know- for the record-” Peter called out, holding up his phone. “The fact that you fit in my suit means that I could totally fit in yours.”

“Nope. Not happening. Not until you get a pilot’s license.”

“Do _you_ have a pilot’s license?” Peter asked pointedly.

Tony paused. “Are you filming right now?”

“No,” Peter lied. But he’d hesitated there for a split second, dammit.

Tony snorted. “Nice try kid.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just don’t break my suit with your stupid biceps. How the hell are they so big anyway?”

“I lift weights.”

Peter stared at him.

“WHEN?” he demanded. “I’ve been here for ages and I’ve _never_ seen you go to the gym-”

“I went the other day when you were with Bucky,” Tony said simply, and twisted, stretching an arm.

Peter frowned. Moved down several feet to get a better view. He might have even zoomed in a bit with the phone-

“Have you thought about doing, like squats?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Tony stopped stretching to fix him with a death stare.

“Because I think... it might be a good idea. To start. You know. Doing them.”

Tony continued to glare.

“I just- my suit doesn’t hide anything and I can see now why the butt plate on yours is like- extended the way it is-”

Tony took a steadying breath. “Yes. I have a flat ass. I am aware- and the extension is for aerodynamics- _and are you still filming right now_?”

Peter considered. “Yes? But I can always edit this out. And hurry up and go already. I don’t have an SD card in my phone yet,” Peter complained.

“I will go when I’m ready,” Tony snapped. “And that phone has plenty of memory.” He flexed his back and neck and grunted as something popped so loud that Peter heard it even without his super hearing.

“Did- did you just break something?” Peter asked, genuinely concerned. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the MedBay?”

Tony froze, then glared at him.

“So help me, I will come down there, tie you to a chair and spoon feed you an entire cheesecake. Do _not_ test me,” Tony said, pointing menacingly at him.

Peter stared at him. “Tony... I don’t- I don’t think you understand how threats work-” he protested. “You’re supposed to say that you’re going to do something mean-”

“You can watch a movie while I do it,” Tony said thoughtfully.

“Tony- again- I don’t think you’re getting the concept here-”

“I’ll even let you pick if I make airplane noises or choo choo ones with the spoon,” Tony said serenely, and idly stretched a hamstring.

“Torture is illegal Tony!” Peter snapped back, alarmed. “The Geneva Convention and the Constitution both say so!”

“You’ll wear a bib. It’ll say ‘spider baby’ on it,” Tony continued.

“I’ll tell Dad!” Peter blustered desperately.

Tony beamed at him. “Great idea. He can take over when my arm gets tired from lifting the spoon. He’ll probably even pat you on the head and tell you what a good boy you are afterwards.”

Peter growled. It did sound like something Steve would do god damn it.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked, wandering in.

“Nat!” Peter whined desperately. “He’s saying he’s going to tie me to a chair and feed me a cheesecake!”

“On second thought I think I’ll just let Steve feed you,” Tony teased. “That way I can film him making choo choo noises.”

“Tooony!” Peter protested.

“Hey- it was your idea to bring him into this-”

Natasha stared at Tony.

Tony- who was wearing Peter’s Spider-Man suit. Standing on a diving board. While Peter was obviously filming.

“Tony? Do I need to call Steve to come sit on you again?” she asked carefully. She sounded like she was talking to a mentally ill person standing on the ledge of a bridge.

Tony ignored her and moved closer to the end of the board. “Ready kid?”

“Yes! Jump and twhip already!” Peter shouted back, desperate to change the subject.

Tony ran a bit, bounced off the board, got some air- pointed his arm at a ceiling beam, let out a stream of webbing-- that was far too short to reach anything-- and landed with a small shriek into the pool.

Peter sniggered darkly.

“What the hell is going on?” Natasha demanded as Tony grimly swam to the edge of the pool.

“His paisley shirt was ugly.”

She frowned with thought, then scoffed and rolled her eyes when she got it. Then froze. “Wait. Are you filming right now?”

Peter snorted. “Obviously.”

She frowned at him. “Edit me out. I don’t have makeup on.”

“I’ll blur you,” Peter said, then walked over to the soggy Tony who heaved himself onto the side.

“So... what did we learn?” Peter asked as patronizingly as possible.

“That was clearly a practice run,” Tony said stubbornly. “I smacked myself on the ceiling the first time I turned my boots on. This is nothing.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Do you have any idea how many walls I ran into? There’s a dumpster on 5th that I’m fairly sure still has an imprint of my ass on the lid. It’s not easy Tony.”

Tony growled. “Practice run.”

The second time Tony got the webbing long enough, but clearly wasn’t expecting the jerk when it connected and started to swing him- he cut it too early in a panic, and again ended up in the water.

The third time he got the wrong beam at an entirely wrong angle, and for a few seconds swung wildly out over concrete. Both Peter and Nat let out a sigh of relief when he ended up in the water again.

“I’m not sure what your end goal here is,” Peter said, standing over Tony who laid gently gasping on the side of the pool like a small red and blue beached dolphin. “Let’s say you get it and go all the way to the end of the pool. You can’t dismount and land on the concrete. You’ll break a hip or something.”

“I’ll circle back and land on the diving board,” Tony said petulantly. “And I would NOT break a hip. I’d break an ankle at most.”

“Circle back?” Peter asked, puzzled.

“Yeah. I’ll do the first web there-” Tony pointed at a beam, “then release and do a second web there-” another beam, “Then double back and third web on the first beam- and I’ll be back on the diving board. Easy.”

Peter stared at him.

“That’s not how physics works. You can’t just swing back and forth on a pendulum multiple times and end up back in the same spot. You have to-” Peter paused, unable to find words. “Move like you’re going for air on a swing set,” he finished lamely. “Otherwise you’ll never get high enough to land back on the board. You lose momentum on every swing, and that second beam- that’s gonna possibly send you into the far wall- you’re gonna have to watch your web length-”

“Don’t tell _me_ about physics, _pup_,” Tony growled at him. “I know! I have it planned out! I just have to _do it_!”

Peter pressed his lips together. “Okay,” he said skeptically. He wondered if he should tell Tony that it took him two whole days to get the whole “release to go to a second web” thing down pat. Never mind the “going to a third one”.

By the sixth attempt, Peter started to get... concerned. Judging from Tony’s generalized mid-air random flopping it was obvious the man had never been on a swing set in his life, let alone ever “gone for air” on one. And two- he seemed to be out of breath more and more each time he dragged himself out of the pool.

“Nat?” he asked quietly. “Maybe- should we be calling Steve?”

“He’ll wear himself out in a little bit. Let him go.”

Peter wandered over to the current beached turtle scene and knelt next to him. “Tony- I think maybe you should stop. I mean- I _could_ pull you out of the pool, but I’m not supposed to like... lift heavy stuff right now- and we all know how Nat feels about getting her hair wet-”

Tony glared up at him and growled. “You know I’m right,” Peter insisted. “Besides it took me a whole weekend to figure out the whole ‘going from one web to another’ thing. It’s harder than it looks. You’re lucky you don’t have to take wind speed into account right now. There’s a whole like wind tunnel affect right around the 50th floor level or so that if you catch just wrong will ruin your day-”

“Where is there a wind tunnel?” Tony demanded. Peter ignored him.

“And have you ever been on a swing set? Like... ever? Because you’re flopping wrong. You gotta point your toes and kick like you’re trying to kick the clouds in the nuts.”

Tony stared at him. “Are you listening to yourself- Natasha- please tell me you’re hearing this-” Tony protested.

Natasha wandered over. “Sounds pretty solid to me. Everyone knows you get better air when you point your toes.”

“Your fulcrum can’t be your waist. You have to snap your whole self forward and use your arms-”

“Like when you do a pole vault?” Natasha asked thoughtfully.

Peter considered this. “Sort of? But my webs aren’t solid-” he paused. “You do pole vaulting?” he asked, surprised.

“I watch the olympics,” Natasha said mysteriously.

“Wait- wait wait- you’re not swinging- you’re _pole vaulting_ around?” Tony asked, scandalized.

Peter shrugged. “If I’m in a hurry, yeah. And if I need to get somewhere high. It’s easier to go from a high place to a low place though. I don’t usually use beams that are all the same height either- You go up high-” he brought a hand up to demonstrate- “Go along for a bit, then let out a really long one to build up speed-” He dropped his hand the equivalent of several tens of stories- “Really arch up into it at the end- and then just... drop? Then do it again-”

Tony rubbed his face. “I give up.”

Peter brought up his phone with lighting speed. “I’m sorry, can you say that again?”

Tony glared at him. “You win. This is hard as fuck. And this damn thing is seriously riding up my crotch right now-” he complained and tugged at it.

“That’s because you’re not wearing the right underwear,” Peter said. “And you’re wet. It’s always worse when you get wet. You’re not waterproof without the mask on.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not wearing your mask kid. That’s too much.”

Peter smirked. “And now I get to say- ‘I told you so’. _Again_,” he said triumphantly.

Tony gave him a look. “Look, I know you’re trying to be all smug and stuff, but I just cannot take you seriously with those false lashes on. Where did you even _get them_?”

Peter shrugged. “Bucky’s bathroom.”

“You mean Darcy?” Tony frowned up at him.

“No. She didn’t know where they came from. She couldn’t find hers.”

Natasha frowned at him. “I think they might be mine-” she said tentatively.

“Where the hell were you going? Carnival in Brazil?” Tony demanded. “Those are the thickest, longest fake lashes I’ve ever seen!”

Natasha shrugged.

“They’re not so bad. They do kinda tickle my face when I have my eyes open though,” Peter said reflectively.

Tony sighed and laid back against the concrete.

“Have you thought about lip gloss?” Natasha asked.

Peter visibly balked. “Eh-”

Tony snorted. “You wear drag queen eyelashes but draw the line at lip gloss?”

“You wear lifts but I’ve never seen you in high heels,” Peter snapped back, and stood up.

“You have lifts in your shoes?” Natasha demanded.

Tony groaned. “I thought you were too high to remember that conversation.”

“You still won’t tell me why you installed your cabinets so freakin’ high. Make the giants suffer is what I say,” Peter said darkly. “I want to reach my cereal without climbing on the counter-” he grumbled.

Natasha was considering Tony. “Have you ever considered heels? I think you could pull off some red pumps.”

“Why does that sound like you have a pair of shoes that are mysteriously in my size?” Tony asked, sounding defeated and slowly sat up.

“You’d probably break Steve,” Natasha said meditatively. “That could be fun.”

Peter considered. “Break Steve?” he asked, confused. “How are heels going to break Steve?”

“You really think they would?” Tony asked. He sounded as if he was considering it now.

“Only one way to find out,” Natasha said and waggled her eyebrows.

A slow light began to dawn in Peter’s world.

“Oh my god, are you guys talking about a sex thing?”

They both ignored him. Natasha helped Tony stand up.

“Oh god- it’s a sex thing. Please don’t wear the heels in the common room- I like to sleep on that couch-” Peter pleaded.

“Hush. One day, when you’re 40, you’ll have an alpha of your own to break,” Tony said and ruffled his hair.

“It’s just that couch is really nice and perfect for naps-”

“Relax. There’s a strict no sex rule for the common room,” Natasha said.

Peter relaxed. A split second later he went rigid again. “Wait. You had to make a rule?” he demanded.

“Clint,” Tony said simply.

“Was it on the couch?” Peter demanded.

“We threw it out,” Natasha said.

Peter relaxed again.

Natasha frowned, and eyed him.

“What?”

“Are you still filming?”

“What?” He checked his phone. “Crap!” He turned it off.

“I’d better not see that on youtube,” Tony growled.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want the public to know about Clint’s sex couch either,” Peter said.

As Tony took the suit off, Peter tried to slip away to the lab.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Tony demanded, dripping on the tiles in Natasha’s kitchenette.

“Just... to the lab-”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “And did someone put a new patch on you this morning?” he asked pointedly.

Peter sagged. “Yes,” he mumbled. “But- it’s a half strength one! Cho said she’s tapering me off-” he protested. “I feel _fine_.”

“Nope. Sit your butt down. It would be one thing if you worked with servos or something, but you work with chemicals. No working with chemicals unless you’re sober,” Tony said seriously.

For some reason Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, but did not comment.

Peter sighed, and sat down on the couch miserably.

“Fiine,” he grumbled.

Natasha handed him a Stark Pad. “Here. Don’t you have school work?”

Tony gave her a brilliant smile. “That’s right! If you’re well enough to do lab work, you’re well enough to do whatever kindergarten dribble they’ve assigned you,” he said. “Thank you Natasha.”

“I’m not in kindergarten Tony!” Peter protested. “I’m in AP Bio!”

“Which is crayon scribble compared to what you’ve been doing in my lab,” Tony said firmly. “Tomorrow I’m going to be making some calls. I’m going to get you something that will actually _challenge_ you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Uh huh.”

“What? You think that can’t be done?”

Peter eyed him and shrugged. “They said that would happen when I went to Midtown,” he said resentfully.

Tony snorted. “What they meant was, ‘challenging for above average’,” he said dismissively. “You are _stratospheres_ above that,” he spat and tugged on a pair of yoga pants.

“You really think so?” Peter asked, flushing.

“I _know_ so.” Tony said. “God, I don’t even know how you do it. If it was me at that school I would have burned the damn thing down on the second week.” He paused. “I was an awful human being when I was a teenager- DO NOT burn down your school.” he said quickly.

Natasha snorted. “_I’ll_ burn it down if they try to send you back,” she said shortly, appearing with several pairs of red pumps from her closet. “You are _not_ going back to that security disaster,” she said, leveling him with her most serious glare.

Peter frowned. “But May said that she wants me to go back-”

Natasha and Tony shared a look.

“You let us adults worry about that kiddo,” Tony said, and took a knee in front of the couch. “Here. Look at me. This is important.”

Peter looked at him, puzzled and a little bit frightened. Tony was almost never serious like this.

“I swear to you- no matter what happens- no matter how crazy life gets- you will ALWAYS have a place with me and Steve. Period. You understand? Even if something happens to me you’ll be taken care of.”

Peter frowned. “What? What are you saying?”

Tony took his hand. “I’m saying you’re in my will kid. You have a trust fund all set up and waiting for you the minute you hit 21 or if some idiot gets a lucky shot at my reactor.”

Peter felt himself start to tear up. “What? Seriously?”

“Yep. And since my armor is the best, you’re going to be stuck with us for a long time,” Tony said, then stood up. “And besides, you’re not going to need the trust fund anyway. You’ll probably start up your own company with that webbing of yours and do a hostile takeover of mine when you’re 30.”

Peter snorted. “What? Why would I do that?” he asked skeptically.

“To corner a market? To spite me for that one time I told you no? Who knows?”

“Tony- I would _never_-” Peter protested.

“YOU will be successful and amazing and do so much more than I ever have. Don’t ever forget that,” Tony said. “And besides - I’ll probably wind up _asking_ you to do that hostile takeover. I have been at a war with my board ever since I took over, and it’s starting to look like I either have to wait for the old bastards to die off or have someone from the outside come in and kick them out for me,” he said grumpily. “So hurry up and make your first billion kid. It’s lonely up here with all these old fucks.”

“Tony- I- I haven’t even made a first dollar yet!” Peter protested. “I can’t even get a job at Delmar’s-”

Tony frowned. “How do you know that?”

Peter was suddenly fascinated with the carpet. He shrugged.

“Were you... did you seriously look for a job already?” Tony demanded. “On top of everything that you’re doing already?”

Peter cleared his throat. “I... after the funeral,” he said quietly. “I... I asked around. Everyone said they wouldn’t take me until I was 16.”

Tony sighed. Swore softly. Rubbed his face.

“Well, I’m putting my foot down. You are not going to _waste _your time at some grocery store-”

“It’s a deli-” Peter protested softly.

“Whatever. Not happening.”

“He could volunteer somewhere,” Natasha said demurely. “That is if you’re bored. _Are_ you bored Peter?”

“No!”

“Well then. It’s settled. Are you going to give me those shoes or not Natasha?” Tony demanded.

And it was there, sitting on Natasha’s couch and watching the richest man in the world try on high heels in yoga pants that Peter realized:

_This was his life now. _

It was... surreal? For a moment he almost felt like he was watching everything from outside of himself. Tony and Steve- they would take care of him. And Tony had set up a ‘trust fund’ for him. Which- knowing Tony, meant that he probably would never have to worry about money again.

No more worrying if he was putting the heat on too high in the winter, and having to wear two sweaters indoors. No more dumpster diving for spare computer parts that were years or even decades old. No more having to buy only off-brands of things.

_He could... he could eat whatever he wanted. However much he wanted. Whenever he wanted. _

“Sir- Peter appears to be in distress-” Jarvis reported from a ceiling a million miles away. He sounded concerned.

Tony was there, holding Peter’s face and making him look at him.

“Peter? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” he sounded alarmed.

Peter blinked, and tried to respond- but nothing came out.

“Holy shit-”

Natasha shoved him out of the way. “Hey honey-” she said calmly. “Can you breathe with me? You’re breathing too fast.”

He was? But then why couldn’t he get any air?

“Breathe with me. In..... and out. Hold it. Back in again- _Tony get me his spray_-” she hissed.

Peter managed to obey. It was hard. He breathed with her until a spray bottle was shoved up his nose, and Tony gave him a pump.

Peter coughed a bit as the spray tickled his nose.

“Shh... it’s okay baby. Breathe. Come on. You can do it,” Tony pleaded, and fanned him with his hand.

Peter blinked and shook- and then finally- finally, took a breath that didn’t feel like his lungs were fighting him to take. He gasped.

“That’s it. You’re safe. You’re here in the tower. Natasha and I are here-” Tony soothed, pulling him into his lap.

Peter groaned. “What...” he gasped. “What happened-” he managed. Barely.

“You had a panic attack, маленький*,” Natasha said quietly. “Can you tell us what upset you?”

Peter buried his face in Tony’s neck. He could feel his face turn red. Who the hell has a panic attack because things are going _well_? Oh god. He was fucking up at fucking up, that’s how fucked up he was. He whined a bit.

“Hey- if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to, kiddo. Just know that we’re here, okay?” Tony said.

“Was it seeing Tony in heels?” Natasha asked. Peter couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. “I know it’s a bit shocking-”

Tony sputtered, and glared at her. “Nat-” he growled. “We need to take this _seriously_-”

“Relax. It’s just a panic attack. _It’s okay to have panic attacks_,” she said pointedly. “We didn’t have to take him to MedBay and there was no hulk-smashing. The medicine worked. This is good. And you freaking out that he’s freaking out only continues the ‘freak out’ cycle. So- _chill_.”

Tony took some deep breaths. Peter could hear both Tony’s and his own heart rate start to slow down after a few minutes.

“Shh...” Tony kissed his hair. “You feeling better baby?”

“Tired,” Peter complained into his neck.

“You want to take a nap?”

Peter hummed.

“Come on then. Let’s go take a nap on Auntie Nat’s bed,” Tony said.

Approximately 2 seconds after they tucked him in he was passed out.

*****

Tony carefully clicked the door to Natasha’s bedroom shut. Peter was gently- but not quite- snoring inside.

He heaved a sigh and staggered over and collapsed on the couch where Natasha handed him a wide mouthed glass of club soda. He winced, but drank it in one go. It helped, but also didn’t.

Natasha waited patiently.

“He weighs 93 pounds,” he said eventually. “He wasn’t eating because he didn’t think his Aunt could afford it. And he’s right. They’re getting evicted. She’s going to move in with her boyfriend. She doesn’t want me to tell him.”

Natasha waited.

“I- I offered to buy her house for her months ago. I’m a rich bastard but I’m not BLIND Nat. That house has been needing a paint job for at least 5 years. But she said ‘no’. I just... I don’t understand it. I told her- I TOLD HER- no strings attached. For the sake of the boy. Just... let me help. And she was offended! _Offended_! And now she’s being foreclosed on- or evicted or whatever- and foreclosures don’t just happen overnight. Which means that she was in trouble even when I offered. And she still said NO-”

He was practically vibrating with anger now.

“So you’re upset.”

Tony gave her a death glare.

“You’re upset because a woman who was recently widowed turned down your offer to buy her house. A widow who had recently discovered her kid had a thing for dressing in footie pajamas and fighting muggers. A kid that isn’t even related to her by blood. Are we talking about that widow? A woman who works double shifts and was trying desperately to keep things going?”

Tony’s glare did not subside. “YES!”

Natasha hummed. “And this is coming from the man who got so mad he gave his personal address to a terrorist and said, ‘come at me bro’?”

“What the _hell_ does that have to do anything?”

“I’m saying that when it comes to doubling down on bad decisions because of pride, you should not throw stones.”

“Yeah- but I didn’t have a _kid _depending on me-”

“So, Pepper doesn’t count?”

Tony got up and paced the room. “I TOLD her to leave- that was _not_ my fault- she’s a grown adult and I told her that if she wanted out she could go-” he sputtered.

“And who would have protected her when she left, Tony?” Natasha asked. “Where would she have gone?”

Tony froze.

“What?” he demanded.

“If she had left the house that night. If she had packed up. Where would she have gone?”

“The tower of course!”

“To be with Steve?”

“Of course!”

“The Steve that she didn’t know?”

“What?”

“Steve and Pepper have spent approximately 5 minutes in a room together up until even today. So she was supposed to go cross country and hope that he would protect her?”

Tony snarled. “Are you saying he wouldn’t have? I don’t- I don’t get what you’re trying to say here-”

“Tony- you’re a 500 pound gorilla. You don’t know it, but you _are_. You offer money and say it doesn’t come with strings, but it _would._ It HAS to. Your actions have... ramifications for others. Whether you want them to or not. You think she’d have a private life if it ever came to life that you paid for her house? You think that anyone has EVER offered her money that didn’t have a million strings attached? You think she’s stupid for saying no? Well I’d say she was stupid if she said ‘yes’.”

He scowled at her. “You live here-” he protested. “Rent free- I’ve _never_ heard you have a problem with this-”

“And I’m part of the pack. I earn my keep. She’s not.”

“What-” he protested.

“Hi,” she stuck out a hand. “You’ve never met me and only seen me on TV. I’m a billionaire. I shoot lasers out of my watch and wear a suit of armor that I fly around in. That sure is a cute nephew you got there. How would you feel about me paying off your house?” she said matter of factly and flashed him a billion-dollar smile that was very very fake.

He stared at her, flabbergasted for almost a full minute.

“Okay- first of all, I am NOT that creepy-” he protested weakly. “My smile is way better than that-”

Her hand and smile dropped. “That’s not the point and you know it.”

He sat heavily on the couch again, head in his hands. “I’m going to have to steal Peter, aren’t I?” he said quietly. “I’m going to have to make her hand him over.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Natasha said blandly. Too blandly.

“Hey- don’t go all ‘plausible deniability’ on me _now,_” he demanded angrily. “You’re my second. If I’m going around... _stealing children_ then you’re going to be in it as deep as I am-” he growled.

“I think the technical term is ‘custodial interference’,” she said primly.

“Oh, of _course_. Like that’s better,” Tony snorted.

“You could do it legally,” she said simply.

“There’s a legal way to steal a child?” he asked, perplexed.

Nat rolled her eyes. “You ask her for a guardianship. Technically, you’ve been breaking the law when you’ve made health care decisions for him this last week. If you weren’t protected by SHIELD Cho could lose her license. I’m surprised she hasn’t made more of a fuss about it.” “

Actually Ms. Romanov, if I may interject-” Jarvis said, and they both jumped.

“What is it?” Tony asked.

“Ms. Parker signed a document allowing for you to have temporary medical power of attorney. That is sir, you are allowed to make decisions for Peter’s health care in her place. She of course, retains the rights to reverse your decisions. Doctor Cho insisted on it.”

Natasha looked impressed. “Go Cho,” she said. “That’s a step forward actually. It means she trusts you, and she knows she can’t be there for him.”

“She’ll never go for a guardianship,” Tony said.

“You might need it if you’re going to deal with his schooling,” Natasha said. “Otherwise she’s going to have to be the one to talk to the school.”

Tony sighed, and rubbed his face. “I’m going to have to get lawyers involved, aren’t I?” he said, with all the enthusiasm of a paraplegic being greeted with a broken elevator.

“Relax. They’re supposed to be blood thirsty sharks to other people. Not you.”

“I don’t _want_ to sic blood thirsty sharks on the kid’s Aunt,” Tony said bluntly.

Natasha sighed. Considered a wall.

“93 pounds? Really?”

“Cho thinks it’s why he’s been breaking his bones,” Tony said listlessly.

Nat nodded. “I’d wondered about that. What kind of superhuman breaks their hand on a tile wall? And the MRI? The kid once stood in front of a city bus to stop it and walked away for god’s sake.”

“It’s why he’s so short,” Tony said. “You can’t grow if you’re starving.”

She sighed. “He’s only had his powers for what- less than a year now?”

“Almost a year. He said it happened at the beginning of May.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t weigh less.”

“Apparently, he’s been eating _some_ of Clint’s ice cream,” Tony said drolly.

Natasha snorted a laugh. “What? Seriously? Clint has been complaining about that for _ages_ now. We thought it was Bucky-”

“Nope. It was Shortstack,” Tony said, and gave a sort of hopeless laugh. “Oh my god, Nat. What am I gonna do?” he asked, and ran a stressed hand through his hair.

“We’ll figure it out. The good news is that he’s with us. He’s safe. There’s no rush. She doesn’t want him back tomorrow, does she?”

“No. I asked to keep him for a couple of months. Give her some time to work stuff out on her end.”

“And she said yes?”

“She said yes.”

Natasha nodded. “It also gives _us_ a couple of months to work things out on our end as well,” she said.

Tony took a breath. “That’s true.”

Two months. Find an excuse to ask for guardianship. Talk to his lawyers. Get the paperwork lined up- ready for her to sign. All that jazz.

He could do this.

A few hours later he swung by the Penthouse to get changed. Natasha had promised to keep an eye on the kid, and while the yoga pants were actually not that bad, he at least wanted to put some underwear on under them.

He walked into the Penthouse to find the alphas (and Clint) gathered around the hammock. They seemed to be in deep discussion about something. Many dramatic hand gestures were being used. Steve, noticeably, was missing.

“I trust progress is being made,” Tony said. “Dinner’s at 6.”

“Yeah- we’ve just got this screw we can’t- holy shit. What are you _wearing_?” Clint demanded, craning around Bucky to get a better view of him.

Almost as one, the men all snapped to look at him.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Yoga pants? They’re Nat’s. There was... water? Look. It’s not important. What’s important is if Clint has sat in the hammock yet.”

“Why do I have to sit in the hammock?” Clint demanded angrily.

“Because Steve weighs at least a hundred pounds more than me,” Tony said. “The boys could break it just by looking at it,” Tony firmly. “And I want it tested, not destroyed.”

“It’s rated for 350 pounds,” Sam said thoughtfully, looking at the box.

Tony shook his head. “That’s what it SAYS, yes. But I’ve learned not to trust such things.”

“What are we not trusting?” Steve asked, coming out of the bedroom while collapsing a cardboard box.

“The weight limit on commercial stuff is almost never -” Tony said. Or at least was saying when Steve’s aggressive rumble interrupted him.

“Everyone out. NOW,” he all but roared and the men all made a break for the elevator.

Tony watched them, perplexed and a little frightened. “Steve?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“What. Are you _wearing_?” Steve demanded, towering over him.

Tony blinked at him. Looked down at himself in befuddlement. Okay. So- barefoot. But that couldn’t be the problem. His dick wasn’t hanging out- okay. Well. It wasn’t exposed but Nat liked her yoga pants a little on the small side and he didn’t have any dry underwear at Nat’s so he was going commando but you had to, you know... LOOK for that. Sorta.

And he had a top on! He was definitely broader than her in the chest/shoulder area so the only thing that fit him was a little black... silky thing that had spaghetti straps and a strip of lace at the top. She’d said it was supposed to be worn as a modesty thing under like a super deep cut V suit or whatever. All Tony cared about was that it mostly covered his reactor. He didn’t really like walking around with it exposed.

“Clothes? That I got from Natasha? Because there was a thing?” he said uncertainly, deeply confused. “I was just coming to get changed.”

Steve pressed his lips together and looked vaguely constipated in the special way he often did when he struggled with “I was born in the 1920s but it’s now 2019 and Jesus Christ how the fuck is this _normal???_”. He didn’t do it much anymore, thank god.

Something clicked in Tony’s head. “Are you... are you going to tell me what I can and cannot _wear _right now? Is... is that what is happening?” Tony asked, his tone dangerous. “Because that had better NOT be what is happening right now.”

Steve took a breath. Let it out.

“_No,_” he said, but it sounded like someone was pulling his teeth. “Omegas can wear whatever they want,” he said. It sounded like he was reciting something. Something that had been repeated to him. Often.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Because so help me, I will walk down 5th avenue in these fucking yoga pants if I want.”

Steve had looked less pained when he’d been last shot. “I know,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I mean- I won’t. But I _could_,” Tony threatened.

“I just...” Steve hesitated for a long moment. “I love you,” he said finally. “And you are just... _so_ beautiful.”

Tony stared at him. This was not where he’d expected this conversation to be going. And also- Steve thought he was _beautiful_?

Steve cautiously extended a hand and ran it through Tony’s hair. “I just... I want to be selfish and keep- _some_ aspects of you to myself. Please?” he pleaded, turning on the puppy dog eyes.

Tony flushed. He had not been expecting this angle. And Steve- he sounded so... reasonable. And the fact that he’d gone from 0 to protective at the drop of a hat... _fuck_. Was it a ding against modern Omeganism if he admitted that had been a teeny tiny bit hot?

And these pants- well.

“It’s because you can totally see my dick through the pants, isn’t it?” he asked mulishly. “Because that was _not_ my intention when I put them on-”

Steve looked relieved, and gathered Tony up in a hug. “I love you,” he said. “I want you to be happy.”

“But you’re drawing the line at the pants?” Tony probed.

Steve didn’t answer for a long moment. “Yes. I am,” he said eventually. He sounded regretful.

“It’s not like I _meant_ to show my dick everyone-” Tony grumbled resentfully.

Steve hugged him. “I know baby. I know. I’m sorry I... I overreacted. I panicked a bit, to be honest.”

“Can I go get changed now? Because when I flash people, I at least like it to be intentional,” Tony complained.

“Please,” Steve said, sounding relieved.

“I gotta ask though- do you at least like the lace- because-” Tony trailed off as Steve turned red. “You DO like the lace-” he’d been intending to tease him but-

“I think you look wonderful in just about everything-” Steve said diplomatically.

“But you _like_ the lace-” Tony insisted, eyeing him with a sly smile.

“I do. I like the lace,” Steve admitted with an embarrassed smile, and gave Tony a kiss. “Go get changed. It’s almost time for dinner.”

Tony wandered off to the closet.

It seemed Natasha’s idea had merit. The shoes, he definitely had to try sometime. Maybe for Steve’s birthday? He could go full camp- get himself a red white and blue feather boa. Maybe even get one of those stupid foam statue of liberty crowns they sold at souvenir stands...

Maybe a replica of one of the dancer costumes from Steve’s War Bond days?

Hmmm...

He’d probably have better luck with the boa, the shoes and nothing else.

But Steve’s birthday was in July, which meant that he had time to plan.

“Jarvis, do I have a reminder set for Steve’s birthday?” he asked absently as he pulled on a pair of jeans.

“Yes sir. I created a reminder the day you were mated. It is set for 4 days beforehand. Would you like to set another one?”

Tony almost had to blink back tears. Jarvis... _god. _Sometimes he wondered about what he’d created when he’d made Jarvis in his dorm room all those years ago.

“Good boy.”

“You’re most welcome sir,” Jarvis said, clearly pleased.

Tony (now wearing a band t-shirt, jeans and a pair of shoes he didn’t remember owning) and Steve wandered down to the common room just in time to catch the catering staff setting up.

It looked like whoever was in charge of the kitchens today had given a globe a spin and put their finger on it. There was a mound of lumpia that looked half as tall as he was, and Tony knew once the boys had a taste of it there wouldn’t be any leftovers. There was Bulgogi, and a mound of kimchi. And dumplings. So many dumplings. And two entire trays of fried rice with extra everything from the looks of it. And a vat of what looked like soup.

He stirred it experimentally, and found something that vaguely looked like vegetables in it. He frowned. A week ago he wouldn’t have blinked at the spread but now- he looked at it with a new pair of eyes.

He flagged down a worker. “Great work, love the spread. Can you bring up some sort of salad and maybe some fruit? Doesn’t have to be fancy. Also- let the chefs know I want to go over the menu with them- some of our diet needs have changed. And where’s the vegetarian dish for Bruce?”

“The soup and the kimchi are vegetarian. As are some of the dumplings, Mr. Stark,” the worker, a beta, explained patiently. “The baskets are marked. And we’ll bring up some salad right away. Would you like a caesar or house?”

“Which one has more... green crap in it?” Tony asked.

“The house sir.”

“That one. I want a big bowl. Something that’ll serve at least 4 people-” he paused. “_No_ broccoli,” he said firmly.

The man nodded. “Any fruit preferences?”

Tony hummed. “Whatever’s fresh. I want a big bowl on this island filled with fruit from now on. Rotate it through every couple of days. I don’t care how pretty the fruit looks, I want stuff that tastes good. I’ve got a teenager I’m trying to keep from getting rickets or whatever it is you get when you don’t drink your orange juice.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” the man said.

“Good. That’s all.”

“Yes sir,” the man said and hurried off.

Everyone trickled in in ones and twos. Nat showed up with a sleepy Peter halfway through a granola bar, and Tony had to physically bite his tongue from transforming into his mother and making a comment about him ‘ruining’ his dinner. Instead he gave him a plate of lumpia before they all vanished and showed him to the table so the kid could get a head start.

Bruce, as usual, was the last to come in. He blinked in the light from the windows as if he hadn’t seen the sun in a while, and Tony made a mental note to prod the man into getting more grad students. And maybe someone to help oversee said grad students. Like say... a post grad student.

The salad arrived, and Tony silently, but pointedly, put a bowl of it in front of Peter. Peter made a face at him, but Tony chose to ignore it.

“Alright- alright! Settle down!” Tony announced and everyone took a seat at the table. “I have an announcement- I talked to Mrs. Parker, and Peter is _officially_ going to be staying with us for a couple of months until he’s back on his feet health wise.”

There was some generalized cheering and Peter flushed.

“Just to be clear- that does NOT mean you can drag him along on hare-brained adventures for ‘experience’- not even for surveillance ‘where it’s totally not dangerous at all’ and I’m looking at you Clint,” he said and mock-glared at the beta in question.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Aww, you mean I have to be bored by _myself_?” he grumbled with a thousand percent sarcasm. “And here I thought I could finally spend _hours_ cooped up in a panel van with the kid while we watch Hydra clean their death rays.”

“I mean it! He’s off the roster until he’s cleared by Cho and myself.”

“Don’t worry kid. I’ll break you out for snack runs,” Clint said, and Tony chose to ignore that too.

“Can I at least show him how to shoot a gun now?” Bucky complained. “The kid needs weapon training. And he could be a decent sniper- he could easily get into the craziest of positions-”

“Maybe on the weekends. He’s still going to have school work he has to do,” Tony said.

“Do I get a say in any of this?” Peter asked, clearly worried. “I just want to spend some time in the lab-”

“I want you to have a limit on lab time,” Steve said firmly. “You’re too young to be hunched over a workbench for days on end. It’s not healthy.”

Tony didn’t miss how Peter looked skeptically at both himself and Bruce. Peter opened his mouth to protest-

“I think 4 hours a day during the weekend is reasonable,” Bruce said calmly.

“Just the weekend?!” Peter protested.

“You need time for other things. Like exercise,” Natasha said. “Darcy, would you like to join us for a yoga class?”

Darcy perked up. “That sounds fun! Is it hot yoga-”

“Regular yoga. There’s classes for the Stark Industries people, and I’m going to talk to the instructor there to see if we can arrange some private lessons.”

“Yoga?” Peter choked. “But I’m super flexible already-”

“Then it’ll be easy for you, won’t it?” Natasha said, undeterred.

“Sam, have you finished moving in yet?” Steve asked.

Sam nodded. “I’ve got all the boxes moved in. I just have to unpack them all,” he said.

“Are you keeping your old place?” Clint asked.

Sam shook his head. “It was a rental,” he smirked. “I didn’t want to look for a house until Cap proved he could go for more than a couple of years without me,” he said smugly.

Steve snorted into his rice. “What can I say? Now that Bucky’s mated I need _someone_ I can direct the ladies to at all the galas that Tony drags me to.”

“Hey- I am also an option!” Clint protested. “That is one bullet that I will happily take for you-”

Everyone made various sounds of skepticism or disagreement.

“Clint, I think this last month or so is the most I’ve ever seen of you,” Bucky said while Clint sputtered. “Has the sneaky spy world finally ran out of stuff for you to do?”

Clint shrugged. “Hell if I know,” he complained. “I was taken off the roster with the rest of you guys. I think I’m starting to break out in hives from boredom,” he complained. “When do we go back anyway?”

“Tomorrow,” Steve said. “Which means that if there’s a call out, Peter and Sam will stay behind in the Tower.”

Peter choked on salad. “I don’t need a babysitter!” he protested.

“It’s not just you,” Steve said levelly. “I don’t like leaving the tower empty. If someone were to get in and go after Jarvis-”

“That is extremely unlikely Captain,” Jarvis said from the ceiling. “I have very excellent security.”

“I know you do Jarvis. But I’d feel better if there was someone here.”

“If you insist, Captain,” Jarvis said, but his tone made it clear he thought Steve was being silly.

“Is it just me or does that thing have more of a personality lately?” Bucky demanded.

Tony shrugged. “Jarvis is a learning system. The longer he stays online, and the more he interacts with people, the more he learns, the more he...” he shrugged. “Becomes himself I guess. He’s been getting better in recent months though.”

Darcy frowned. “PLEASE tell me you at least gave him the three laws,” she asked.

Tony flicked an eyebrow up at her for a second. He hadn’t quite pinned her as a science nerd. “He has very strict ethical protocols,” he said.

“Three laws?” Sam asked. “Like Asimov?”

Darcy nodded.

“I haven’t heard of that in forever.”

“I didn’t know you read Asimov, Sam,” Bruce said.

Sam shrugged. “Riley was into that sort of stuff. I would be stuck with him for hours on that damn plane and sometimes he just would _not_ shut up about it-”

Tony leaned back and watched as the conversation ebbed and flowed around him.

This- THIS- was good.

“You seem happy,” Steve said quietly with a smile.

Tony sighed contentedly. “This is nice. No-ones in MedBay. Or stuck in India or somewhere crazy.”

“It _is_ nice to have the pack home and all together,” Steve agreed, rumbling slightly and looping an arm around Tony’s back. “I’ll see if we can do it more often- you’re practically glowing right now,” he said, and ran a thumb across Tony’s cheek.

Tony flushed a bit. “Oh- am I?” he teased.

“Uh huh,” Steve said. He pulled him closer and gave Tony a not-quite chaste kiss on Tony’s jawline. “My omega,” he breathed reverentially into Tony’s ear.

Tony hummed and melted a little. Steve delicately nibbled an earlobe-

“Daaad- I’m _eating_!” Peter protested loudly. “No making out at the table!”

For a second there was complete and utter silence. And then as one, everyone except Peter broke into uproarious laughter.

“What?” Peter demanded angrily as wallets were dug out of pockets and bills were exchanged. Sam seemed to be taking most of the winnings. “What’s going on? It was _gross_-”

“You just called Steve ‘Dad’,” Natasha explained, her eyes brimming with amusement.

“What?” Peter demanded, apparently in complete denial.

“You totally did,” Sam confirmed, smirking. “And my wallet thanks you.”

Peter blushed and sank into his chair. “I-” he sputtered.

“Peter- it’s _fine_,” Steve said firmly, his eyes still dancing with amusement. “I’m the pack leader and you’re a pup. You’re my responsibility. So in a way- I kinda am.”

Peter blushed harder.

“Call him dad all you want, kiddo. But you call me mom again, and we’ll have words,” Tony mock-threatened, and ruffled his hair.

“What- when did I do that?” Peter demanded.

“Tony is so not a ‘mom’,” Clint snorted. “He’s more... a ‘ma’ if you ask me. You know- the kind you scream ‘MA!’ across the house for because you need him to get out the shotgun again.”

Tony sputtered. “On what planet does that even make_ sense_?” he demanded as everyone agreed that yeah- that was totally him.

“I can see you grabbing a shotgun and charging out the front door to chase someone off for bothering Peter,” Steve agreed, his eyes twinkling.

“I can see it to- screaming about getting off his property and everything,” Bucky agreed, chuckling.

Tony huffed. “Of course I would. How the _hell_ does that make me a ‘ma’ though-” he complained, baffled.

“Because it just does,” Steve said, and gave him another kiss on the cheek.

Tony grumbled.

Later as they were packing up leftovers to put in the fridge (no lumpia survived, just as Tony predicted), Peter tugged at Steve’s shirt.

“Da- I mean... Steve?” Peter asked. He looked like he was about to turn into a tomato, but persisted.

Steve paused in rinsing the plates to give the boy his full attention. “Yes son?” he asked, looking down with a small loopy smile.

Tony held in a snort. The kid had Steve wrapped around his little finger and didn’t even know it yet. He watched, curious to see what the kid wanted.

“Can- can we watch a movie? Together?” Peter asked. “Like... how we did after the robot fight?”

Steve’s smile turned incandescent. “Of course. Did you have one in mind?”

Peter shrugged. “Not... not really?”

Steve hummed, considering.

“Jarvis, where am I in my list?”

“You have not yet seen the Lion King, Captain,” Jarvis said calmly.

“Lion King. That sounds familiar-” Steve said thoughtfully.

“It’s Disney. There’s been a play adaptation going for like the last twenty years on Broadway,” Darcy said. “You’ve probably seen ads for it on taxis.”

“Twenty years? Sounds like a good one then,” Steve said.

“I’m down for some lion-on-lion action,” Clint said cheerfully.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Nat?”

“Sure,” she agreed.

“It’s not another one where they turn out to be robots, is it?” Bucky complained good naturedly.

“It’s good babe. You’ll like it,” Darcy said.

“If you say so doll,” he said and gave her a kiss as he passed.

There was some jostling as they figured out the new seating arrangements. Tony and Steve got the best spot- a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor. Bucky, who normally laid at their feet like some half-metal dog, kicked Clint off his normal oversized recliner and snuggled up there with Darcy mostly in his lap.

Clint wound up on the couch next to Natasha and Bruce, with his feet dangling over the end of the armrest and his head in Nat’s lap. Natasha on her part, ignored him and rested her popcorn bowl on his head- which Clint also ignored.

Sam stretched out on the second couch- and Tony was suddenly glad that he’d ordered another one when he got one for the Penthouse.

Peter hovered uncertainly until Steve waved him over and pulled him down onto the pillows.

“Your place is right here,” Steve said firmly, pulling Peter down to lay next to him. Peter looked like he was turning into a tomato again, but laid down without an argument.

The movie started, and Tony honestly couldn’t remember if he’d seen this one or not- if he had it’d been ages ago. And he had to admit, the whole “I can’t wait to be king” song was funny.

But the gorge scene- his heart fell into a pit in his stomach when Simba sat out in the open- a sitting duck, set up to lure his father out. It was all too easy to see Peter there- he was just so fucking _trusting_-

“Shh...” Steve apparently read his mind and hugged him closer. “He’s safe,” he murmured in Tony’s ear and gave him a kiss. Tony took a breath and reminded himself that it was only a movie. And besides- Peter wasn’t allowed outside of the tower right now anyway. There would be NO luring of any kind.

And oh- _god_ he’d forgotten that the dad died.

On the other side of Steve, Peter got a little sniffly- and from the sound of it, so did Darcy.

Steve and Bucky rumbled quietly, and Tony buried his face in Steve’s chest.

Another sniff made him look up, and he found Natasha quietly running her fingers through Clint’s hair while he quickly rubbed his face.

HA. He _ knew _the idiot was a softie. He smugly added it to his mental blackmail file and snuggled up to Steve, who was apparently seriously unhappy that the pride’s protector had just died judging from how tense he was.

“It gets better,” Tony murmured just loud enough for Steve and his super-hearing to hear him.

Steve hummed unhappily, then shushed Peter and gave him a kiss in his hair.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispered when Peter whined a bit while Simba tried to wake his dad.

Tony frowned- then realized with a jolt that it must be reminding him of his uncle. His very dead and very ‘shot in front of him’ uncle.

SHIT.

He crawled over Steve and laid behind Peter.

“We’ve got you baby,” Tony said, and pressed himself up against the pup. He frantically signaled Steve, who upped the rumbling.

Thankfully the movie soon moved onto a lighthearted song, and Peter stopped shaking quite so much.

Tony held his hand and purposefully smooshed him into Steve as much as possible.

By the time the monkey showed up again, Tony had to pee. When he came back he found the movie was paused and everyone had gathered around Peter and Steve, taking pictures with their phones.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh- they’re adorable-” Darcy hissed.

Tony tapped a shoulder and Sam gave way so he could see. Peter and Steve were passed out on the floor with Peter buried as much as possible into Steve’s neck. Steve had an arm around him and his nose was buried in Peter’s very blue hair.

Tony quickly stomped down the almost involuntary “aw” noise that threatened to come out of him, and settled for taking at least 20 pictures. He sent the best looking one to Rhodey, and titled it simply ‘my boys’.

He was still admiring the picture on his phone when an alert came up from Jarvis.

“Incoming call from: Emily Keener. Accept/Decline?”

The smile slid right off his face, and he hastily smashed the accept button.

“This is Stark,” he said and hustled to the relative privacy of the kitchen.

“Mr. Stark- I-” she sounded like she was in tears. “I’m so sorry- I...” she sobbed.

“Calm down. Take a breath. Talk to me.”

“I- it’s Harley- I need _help_\- I- I don’t know what to do-” she said, clearly anguished.

“Hey- it’s going to be okay Emily. Tell me what happened-” Tony asked, truly befuddled. What on Earth-

_The explosion. _

“Is he alive?” he demanded, his stomach on the floor.

“I- yes- he’s alive, thank GOD. But Mr. Stark- they arrested him! These men- they tore up our garage and they say he killed all those people- and that’s not possible- my Harley is a _GOOD BOY_, he would_ never _do that-”

“Slow down honey. He’s alive. That’s good. _What men_?”

“Everyone! There’s FBI and ATF and god I don’t even know- and they arrested him! _My baby!_” she was nearly screeching now, clearly well on her way to hysterics.

“Hey. It’s going to be alright. I’m going to take care of it, okay? They are not going to hurt a single hair on his head, you hear me?”

“Yes-” it was sniffly and muffled.

“Are YOU okay?”

“I’m fine- the baby’s fine. I- but Abby’s gone into her first heat- I can’t- I don’t have anywhere to go to take her and these _alphas_\- they won’t stop prowling around the house- and it’s _upsetting _her-”

“Listen to me- I want you to take the baby- go into Abby’s room and lock the door. Don’t speak to them- don’t look at them- don’t engage them. If they insist, tell them that you have a lawyer on the way and you’re not talking to them until he gets there. Repeat that.”

“I... I have a lawyer coming. I ain’t talking to _no-one _‘til he gets here.”

“Good. I’ll have someone there in a couple of hours. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to _personally_ deal with this.”

“Mr. Stark- thank you - I just. I don’t have anyone else to call-”

“It’s alright. I’m going to hang up now so I can deal with this okay?”

“Okay-”

Tony hung up, and studied the floor for a second, his mind swirling with plans, counter plans and backup plans. He looked up to find a totally awake and grim Steve watching him. The rest of the pack ranged behind him. All of them looked pensive.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked.

Tony blinked. He hadn’t been expecting this. “Ah- nowhere. This something I need to handle-” he took a step towards the elevator and Steve quickly blocked him.

“Tony,” Steve warned. “This is a pack. Where you go, I go,” and Jesus, he was using his full “I’m Captain America and I can _totally_ see your shenanigans from here” voice.

Tony paused. Looked at the pack. “Okay. First of all, this is just adorable- thank you-”

Steve rumbled.

“Calm down and let me finish!” he chided, and glared at Steve until he took a tiny step back. “Thank you. This is not, for the record, an Avengers problem. Technically this is not even an Iron Man problem. This is a ‘Tony Stark and his lawyers’ problem. To be even more blunt- the entire eastern half of Tennessee is about to find out what a building full of rabid lawyers shoved up their ass without lube feels like,” he growled. “And if need be I’m about to go wake some Senators up.”

“Tony-” Steve started.

“Hush. You need plausible deniability,” Tony snapped, and scanned the pack. “Natasha? Clint? I need you. Come with me. Jarvis? Call Happy. Tell him to meet me on the main lawyer floor. He knows the one.”

“Right away sir,” Jarvis said, and Tony stormed around a worried Steve and into the elevator. Natasha and Clint hustled in after him.

“What’s the plan?” Natasha asked once the doors closed.

Tony waited until they were a couple of floors down. “I need you to kidnap a kid for me.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Cool cool. Like... is there a _specific_ kid you had in mind or-?” Clint asked.

Natasha smacked him. “Tony?”

“Best case scenario this is a simple milk run. You go down with my lawyers, bail a kid out of jail, never mention my name, and bring him back here. Acceptable scenario is you go down with my lawyers, tell some federal agencies to suck my dick while my lawyers bury them in paperwork. Grab the kid, come back here as fast as possible. Worse case scenario, one of you will be telling SHIELD to suck my dick, while the other one breaks a kid out of jail, and takes him to a safe house,” he paused.

“I’d prefer the first one, of course.”

“Wait- am I _actually_ telling people to suck your dick?” Clint asked.

“If you have to- yes. Iron Man wants the kid- therefore they can go fuck themselves,” Tony said seriously.

“_Sweet_,” Clint grinned. “Best milk run ever!”

Natasha hit him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tl,dr summary if you skipped the “problem” section: 
> 
> Peter’s not eating enough, and is suffering some consequences from it. A specialist by the name of Fox was called in to help. It seems Peter thinks May can’t afford to feed him so he’s been skimping on meals at home- a fact he was reluctant to divulge. It’s probable that his current health problems stem from this. Tony tells Peter that he’ll take care of it with May. 
> 
> And for those who are not super familiar with the X-Men, Dr. Henry McCoy is better known as “Beast”. He’s the big blue furry dude who wears a lab coat and glasses in the old X-Men cartoons from the 90s. He also has multiple PHDs and is incredibly intelligent. He’s a bit on the older side- and surprisingly, I can’t really find anywhere where Bruce and Henry interact. I think they’d be besties. 
> 
> * little one
> 
> Also: how's that for a freakin' update? (Seriously, this is why it's taken so fucking long. Thank you for your patience!) 
> 
> Also also: Harley's in the next chapter and he's coming to the Tower. WOOT! I'm so excited!
> 
> Edit: The edit fairy has come through. I messed up on "when did Peter puke last?" because I'm a silly bugger. TheStrange_One noticed and mentioned it. So I fixed it. Now see? THIS is why I read the comments. LOL


	41. The Trouble With Being an Alpha

Harley shifted in his tiny school desk chair thing. The damn things stopped fitting him sometime last fall and each month it seemed to get worse. He sat in the back so he didn’t block the board from everyone and so he could splay his legs out in front of him without people tripping over them. Some days he swore he felt like Will Ferrell sitting at that tiny desk in Elf.

It was just one more thing on the list of tedious crap he had to endure at school. Like now. Ms. Bates was standing at the board going over log functions and what they were used for- something he’d understood since he was- what- nine?

He stared at the numbers he had lining his page on his notebook. He knew them well, and staring at them wasn’t making them change any. But he scowled at them anyway.

Rent- 900

Electric- 130

Food- 750

Snap- -250

Internet - 80

Netflix- 9

Daycare- 550

Hospital Debt- 200

Gas would be another $50- maybe. He’d never really kept track. Plus diapers. And clothes for Emma, and stuff for Abby- and god knows what Momma spent on shampoo and makeup...

Make it $2,500.

Momma brought in around $1500 from her waitressing stuff. A little more if it was a good month. And he was working pretty much every hour he could- that covered the rest, with maybe $100 left over at the end of the month.

So if he wasn’t stuck in school- and say- managed to work full time at the shop- he could bring in another $2000.

So that’s $3,900 a month between them both. Before taxes.

And Pellissippi State’s welding program would come out to around $650 a month.

It’d bring the budget up to $3,200 a month.

He idly circled random numbers, his lips pursed with thought. It would be close. They could afford it- IF he worked over time. But in order to GO- he would have to go during the day. They didn’t offer night classes. Which would cut into his work hours. Which meant that he _ couldn’t go _.

He rubbed his face. He could take out a loan- fill out a FAFSA. But he was hesitant to take on more debt. _ Especially debt to learn what he already fucking KNEW. _He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Maybe... maybe he was looking at this wrong.

If he took a year off- didn’t go right away- and worked full time...

He bit a lip. That could work. The fees for the college would be around $8,000 for the program but he knew that books and things were always stupid expensive. He could save it up. Say- $10,00?

He did some more numbers. He could do this sort of thing in his head no problem, but seeing it written out soothed his brain.

So- if everything went perfectly- he took a year off to work. Momma never had a bad month, and Abby didn’t have a problem when she presented, and Emma stayed out of the hospital- he could save enough to pay for it, and take it a bit easy while he went to school.

And at the end of it- he’d be a welder.

Well- he’d have a piece of paper that said he was a welder. He was already a fucking welder, but he couldn’t get a job doing it without the damn paper- he’d checked.

With that, he could scale back- work normal shifts. Have some days off. Momma could cut back on her hours, and they could reduce or even eliminate the daycare cost if she worked weekends. Tag team watching the baby. And Abby was getting older. She could help out more.

In fact, she should be helping out more already. He frowned at his notebook. She could clear up more of his time if she- say- took over cleaning up the kitchen. Sweeping. She was tall enough that maybe it was time to show her how to use the mower... That alone would save him hours in the summertime. Time that he could be working somewhere that _ paid. _

He stared at the numbers. Nibbled a pen.

There was nothing wrong with being a welder.

It would mean good pay. He could maybe spend time on some hobbies. Really get his side-business of selling repaired game systems on Ebay going. He enjoyed- well. Didn’t hate doing that. And welding wasn’t so bad.

Right?

....

His gaze flicked to the picture of the Mars Rover that he had taped to the front of his math book. He’d put it there at the beginning of the year. It was a reminder- get through this bullshit- keep his grades up. And he could get a scholarship.

Maybe even to Caltech.

Once there, he could apply for an internship at JPL*. They had one for mechanical engineers.

Maybe he’d get to work on something that went into space.

His eyes went back to the numbers. Maybe... maybe if he saved longer?

Okay. So, he worked full time. Saved...

It would take him 4 years to save for one year at Caltech. And even then he’d be living in California, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to support Momma.

And that’s if everything went to plan. IF they’d take him. They needed more than just good grades, Mrs. Drake had said...

4 years was a long time. Too much could go wrong. Granted, by then Abby would be 17. She could maybe get a job. Help Momma pay the bills...

He doodled on his notebook.

There just _ had _ to be another way.

The bell rang, and Harley sighed and packed up his stuff. As he was rearranging the contents of his book bag so he could put his notebook in it, a card fell out. Frowning, he picked it up off the floor.

It was a business card.

_ Sgt. Chris Mayer- Army Recruiter. _

....

_ Huh. _

I mean... it wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to him, right?

He didn’t have to be at work today until at least 5 so he went right after school.

The recruiter’s place was in a strip mall in Knoxville between an H&R Block and a party store. Harley stood in front of it for a couple of seconds, hesitating, before he told himself to stop being so damn silly.

He did take off his trucker hat before he went in, though. A stout alpha with short brown hair dressed in camo was half sitting on a desk talking to what Harley assumed was some sort of beta secretary as he walked in. He turned to look at Harley- and his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He quickly got off the desk.

“Well good afternoon son!” the man boomed. He was at least a good half foot shorter than Harley, but he somehow managed to fill the room. “How can I help you?”

“Ah- good afternoon sir. I’m lookin' for a Mr. Mayer?”

He smiled at him. “Well, it’s Sergeant Mayer, but you’ve found him! What can I do you for?”

“I ah- If you have a moment, I was hopin' I could talk to you about enlistin'.”

Now the kid had just unwrapped his present and found a brand new game system. He beamed at Harley. “I just so happen to have my calendar clear- why don’t you come on back.”

Harley followed him to a back office that seemed to be just overrun by flags of various sizes and a large calendar hanging on the wall. Harley sat in a chair in front of his desk.

“So- what got you interested in the United States Army- ah-”

“Harley Keener, sir.”

“Mr. Keener.”

“My guidance counselor gave me your card- and I’ve heard about the GI Bill-”

The man nodded, then frowned. “Your counselor?”

“At Union County High School. Mrs. Drake?”

The man’s eyes grew wide. “How old are you son?”

“17.”

He let out a low whistle, and Harley flushed. “Well, looks like you’ve been eating your vegetables,” he said, grinning. “Now- I have to ask- when do you turn 18? Because, if you want to sign up when you're 17, you can do that- BUT you have to have a parent sign with you.”

“Really?” Harley asked, dismayed. Well, that shot down shipping out this summer- he sighed.

“Hey- relax. Joining is not an easy decision. It’s a serious commitment. Once you sign on the dotted line you can’t back out. And there’s no rush. Let’s talk- we can find some good talking points to help convince your mother. You said you were interested in the GI Bill?”

Harley frowned at him. “How’d you know my Momma wouldn’t like it?”

The alpha smiled knowingly at him. “It’s always the Mommas, son. They don’t like their pups getting hurt. Where were you hoping to get into?”

Harley told him about Caltech. About JPL. How he couldn’t even get close to afford to go.

Sergeant Mayer listened carefully and took notes. “Is Caltech a state school?”

“No sir- it’s private.”

“Well, the GI Bill only covers up to $23,000 for private schools per year,” the man said thoughtfully. “But we deal with this sort of thing all the time. You can use the GI Bill, plus apply for other grants and scholarships to get in. The bill does cover things like housing and books- something I think you’ll find will come in handy. And schools do love an army boy,” he said smiling.

They talked about anything and everything for over an hour. How Harley had an ASE Certification for working on cars already- how he could weld and was good with electronics. How his daddy had left when he was 7, and he was trying to keep the household going.

Mayer gave him a level look. “You have a job, Mr. Keener?”

“I have several jobs sir,” Harley said. “I get hours in when I can.”

“And you pay rent to your Momma? Help put food on the table?”

“Yes sir. I’ve been payin' the mortgage for nearly a year and half now. I also pay the electric and stuff like that.”

“You staying in school? Getting good grades? Staying out of trouble?”

“Yes sir.”

The man nodded, satisfied. “That’s good. God himself cannot ask more from a young alpha. I think the army could do many things for you, Mr. Keener. Now- in order to qualify for a job- you have to pass a test called the ASBEV. It’s nothing too scary- it’s just an overview of things like math and vocabulary and how well you know your electronics- sorta like an SAT. If you score high enough in certain categories, you can get into just about any job you want.”

Harley nodded. “I thought since I’m certified, I might go into- ah- fixing the cars and such.”

Mayer nodded. “You could. But I have to warn you that the Wheeled Vehicle Mechanic faces long days. You don’t just quit at 5. If a vehicle is needed for patrol the next day you stay in that bay until it’s done.”

Harley frowned.

“Now- you’re interested in space. The bad news- we don’t go there. Just yet anyway,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “The air force does, but sadly, I can tell you right this second you’re too big to be a pilot. BUT- I _ can _ tell you that the army has other careers that might interest you. How do you feel about Satellite Communications Systems?”

Harley perked up considerably. It turned out that “satellite operators and maintainers” were in considerable demand. Sgt. Mayer looked up some stuff on a computer and they went over the numbers. Best case scenario- he passed the ASBEV with a high enough score and he got in the satellites. That came with a $20,000 bonus if he signed for four years. Plus another bonus if he shipped to training within 30 days of signing papers. There would be 10 weeks of basic, then another 13 weeks in training for his specialization. After that he’d be assigned to a base.

If he didn’t qualify, he could go in as a Microwave systems operator. That one came with a bonus too. Or repair helicopters (that one didn’t have a bonus but Harley figured it’d be more fun than repairing cars).

Worse case, he’d work on the jeeps and things.

He’d make more or less what he would make working overtime now. Plus healthcare- AND he’d get vacation days AND weekends off. Well. Maybe not all weekends off depending on what he was doing at the time. But still- it was a hell of a lot more time off than what he had _ now _.

And the bonuses- they could pay off Emma’s medical bills and still have some left over- maybe enough to pay off the house? Or at least make it so that they paid off the house a hell of a lot sooner. He’d have to check the mortgage balance.

Or maybe they could do some house repairs- get a bigger water heater. Get a dishwasher. Jesus Christ, did he want a dishwasher...

He left with his mind swirling with possibilities and his hands full of brochures.

Regardless of what Momma said, he could sign in late January after his birthday, and be in Basic by February.

The drive back to work was an hour long one with traffic so he had plenty of time to stew in his thoughts.

So. He’d ship in February. Which meant that Abby would be in school. If he worked full time for a year and saved- Momma could switch back to a different shift and still make the house payment- AND get the girls out the door in the morning. Maybe.

That morning shift was good money though. Momma wouldn’t want to leave it.

So that meant someone would need to come by and help in the mornings. Maybe they could stick around for a bit afterwards- help clean up the house a little?

Hmm... Damn Mary-Anne for being right. An omega to help Momma around the house while he was gone- it would at least help put his mind at ease. Abby was 13, but she was... silly. And she couldn’t drive to drop Emma off at daycare. Or help with the shopping.

Mary-Anne might be willing to help out where she could, but it didn’t feel fair. Unlike him and Evan, she’d still be in school. And Evan... Evan was a good man. But he didn’t know shit about babies and Harley doubted he’d ever read a recipe in his life, nevermind shopped for one at a store.

He might be down for mowing the lawn though...

The real problem though would be Momma. She’d gotten sober (finally) not long before she got pregnant with Emma, and thankfully had stayed that way.

So far.

It wasn’t the first time she’d “gone sober”, (or at least claimed to) but it was by far the longest.

If he left, she’d be by herself with Emma and Abby. With no-one to watch her or to quietly pour out the booze when it was found.

Then again, she’d be on her own if he went to Caltech.

And she HAD been sober for nearly 19 months now. And he wouldn’t sign anything until January. He could keep an eye on her until then.

He rubbed his face. He’d have to reassess in maybe December. See if she stayed sober.

In the meantime, he’d be out of school in a month. And this year there’d be no limit on how long he could work- FINALLY now that he was 17. He could work officially, on the books, for _ all _of his jobs. Momma would have to report it and they would probably lose their food stamps, but that wouldn’t matter. The increase in pay would more than cover it.

Actually, come to think of it... there _ was _ only a month of school left. His grades were good, and the army gave zero fucks about his GPA- not that a single semester of Cs would hurt it much. He was a lock for graduating... maybe... maybe he could take some days off? Get a head start?

Baling season would be starting up soon. Very soon if the weather held like it had been. And he knew for a fact that the Simmons were short handed since Jeff had gone off to Nashville for college... word had it the beta had gotten himself a girlfriend and a job and wasn’t planning on coming home for the summer.

That is- if the junkyard or the shop wouldn’t take him on full time. He’d have to talk to Drivers tomorrow. He made more money at the shop than he did the junkyard. Maybe he could work there full time and work at the junkyard part time, maybe on weekends? That would be perfect. He would have to wait until tomorrow to ask when he came for his pay. Drivers never worked on Fridays.

He pulled into the shop parking lot a good 10 minutes early and stuffed the brochures into the bottom of his book bag.

“Hey- Danny called in sick- we need you up on the register,” Denver called out as Harley walked in the employee entrance in the back.

“You sure about that?” Harley asked. “Where’s Ardy?”

“He’s in the can. Go up there and tell Wyatt to get home to his wife already. She’s called 3 times in the last hour alone. Poor thing’s losing her mind with the pup already.”

Harley snorted. “You'd too if you only got two hours of sleep a night,” he said firmly. “I thought I’d die the first month we got Emma home. She’s been home- what a week now?”

“A week and half. My Sarah went over with a casserole yesterday. Says they’re running out of room in the freezer.”

Harley nodded. “That’s good,” he said, stripping off his t-shirt and shrugging into his work shirt at the back of an empty bay.

A wolf whistle came from the other side of the shop. “It’s not even dark out and you’s givin’ us a free show already Harley?” Ardy ribbed him as he stepped out of the bathroom. The beta’s italian wise-guy accent was a sharp contrast to the usual southern drawl of Rose Hill.

Harley rolled his eyes. “Fuck off Ard,” he grumbled. “I’d do it in the bathroom, but _ SOMEONE _ was in the shitter. And since it was you, I gotta wait at least an hour for the paint to stop peelin' before I go in there.”

Ardy grinned at him. “HEY! The first Harley curse of the day and it ain’t even been ten minutes! I think that’s a new record!”

Harley snorted and stuffed his book bag into his locker along with his shirt.

“But seriously, I need you up front- Danny’s called in for the last three days- any more paperwork and we’ll all die in the avalanche.”

Harley huffed. “Rather do oil changes,” he complained.

“Yeah? Too bad. If I let Colin or Denver do it we’ll wind up with 300 oil filters for Hyundais instead of Hondas again, and then I’ll have to install a stripper pole out front and have you work _ that _ instead to get my money back.”

Colin froze in the middle of pulling a dipstick out. “Could a pole even hold him, Ardy?” he asked seriously.

“No,” Ardy said sharply. “And what have I said about taking shit that I say seriously?” Ardy demanded, gesturing wildly with his hands, before throwing a rag at Colin.

Harley fled before the two could drag him into it.

It was annoying being up front. Harley couldn’t even lose himself to the mindless math of balancing books and updating spreadsheets because customers kept coming in.

It was near 7 when the bell above the door rang, yet again.

“I’ll be with y'all in a second,” he said around a pen in his mouth and typed in a couple more numbers. He spat it out, and slapped on a smile fit for customers before getting up and walking over to the counter.

An omega in her 20s with long brown hair plaited into pigtail braids and a trucker hat was waiting for him. She also had a phone stuck to her ear. He noted, with almost absent disapproval, that her tube top was probably a good size smaller than it should be. Her eyes widened for some reason when she saw him.

“Welcome to O’Sullivans’,” Harley said. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“Beth, I- ah, I’m gonna have to call you back,” she said faintly, and hung up before beaming a smile at him.

Harley smiled back, grateful she had hung up. It was always a pain in the ass to talk to people who were on their phones.

“I need an oil change,” she said brightly.

“You intendin' to wait or are you droppin' it off?” Harley asked, pulling up the relevant screen on the POS computer.

“I can wait,” she chirped.

Harley frowned a bit as he looked at his time slots.

“We’re running a bit tight today, ma’am,” Harley said. “If you wanna drop it off, you can do that. Leave a number and we’ll call ya’ll when it’s ready. But if you wait it’s gonna be at least another coupla hours.”

Normally this scared them off waiting, but her smile brightened instead. “I can wait,” she said.

Harley processed her through. She had an older Jeep Wrangler- and it looked like she’d taken care of it from what he could see from his view of it in the parking lot. That was good.

What wasn’t good was that she just would _ not _ shut up.

Most customers when they waited went to the chairs on the side of the lobby and ignored the reruns of Judge Judy or whatever sports channel that was currently on and took advantage of the free wifi.

Instead she lingered at the counter, asking him a million questions while he tried to get back to his paperwork. Did he like dancing? (No.) What kind of car did he drive? (Dodge Dakota). Had he ever gone to the Smoky National Park? (Once, when he was a kid). Pigeon Forge? (No.) Why’d he become a mechanic?

And just on and on and on... and to top it all off- she... well. He didn’t quite know the word for it but her laugh was some sort of high pitched... _ titter _. And she did it apparently at random. It was quite possibly the most annoying thing he’d ever heard and it made him want to stick an ice pick in his ear.

At one point he looked up to see that she was leaning over the counter, and for some reason her tube top was decidedly lower than it’d been 10 minutes ago while she twirled one of her braids, smiling at him. She was damn near indecent. He glanced at the monitor that showed the lobby camera- and yep- the guys in the back were definitely getting an eyeful if they’d noticed.

He cleared his throat. “Ma’am, I should tell you that that camera right there can be viewed by the guys in the back. You should ah... probably fix your shirt. I think you’re showing a mite more than you mean to,” he said as kindly as possible.

She blinked at him, and for some reason a flash of irritation went across her face.

“You know, I think it’s better if y’all call me when it’s ready,” she said. She sounded grumpy.

Harley quickly grabbed the paperwork. “Of course.”

She gave him the number and then stormed off into the parking lot. He watched her go and breathed a sigh of relief before going back to his paperwork. Finally, some fucking peace-

He got maybe a whole two seconds of relief before Ardy stormed in. “You are one DUMB motherfucker, you know that Harl?” he demanded.

Harley reared back, indigent and baffled. “What?” he demanded back. “What’d I do?”

“That- THAT right there- was a solid 9 out of 10. She all but flashed you. And you just didn’t even notice did you?”

“What?”

Ardy smacked him upside the head, and Harley growled at him in protest.

“The _ omega _, numb nuts! How the hell are you supposed to give me grandchildren if you can’t even get a girl’s number when she’s practically climbing up your fucking leg?”

Harley scowled at him. “Now you’re not making a lick of sense Ardy. _ Of course _ I got her number-”

Ardy looked relieved.

“How else are we gonna call her when her car is done?”

Ardy smacked him again. “I can’t even deal with you right now. It’s like watchin’ a trainwreck. I thought yous was supposed to be like this mensa kid or something-”

Harley rolled his eyes. “Only knotheads are in mensa,” he complained. “And I ain’t a knothead.”

“Really? Because you could have fooled me. _ Jesus wept _ , Harl. What on _ earth _ am I gonna do with you?” Ardy complained, his hand waving nearly reaching sign language levels of intensity.

Harley rolled his eyes, and caught sight of Colin watching him from the door frame. “What?” he demanded.

Colin just shook his head sadly.

Harley scowled at him. “Does y’all want me to work on paperwork or not?” he demanded indignantly. “Cuz I can’t do it if everyone and their sister is talkin’ to me all the time.” He paused. “And I can’t give you grandkids Ardy, you ain’t my daddy,” he grumbled.

“I ain’t your dad- of course I ‘ain’t’ your dad- Colin-” Ardy entreated. “Please. Can you translate for me? I’m _ dying _ right now.”

Colin considered them for a long moment, sucking on a toothpick. “Harley?”

“Yeah?”

“That there girl thought you was _ cute _ ,” Colin drawled slowly, as if talking to a blathering idiot. “She wanted to go out with you. On a _ date_.”

Harley blinked at them. Stared off at a wall. Replayed the scene back in his mind.

_ Huh. _Well, that had been a bullet dodged.

He shrugged carelessly. “And?”

Ardy smacked him again. “_Grandkids_, Harl. One day I expect GRANDKIDS,” the beta hissed. “And I’m not holding your dick for you while you do it either,” he said, and stormed off.

Harley, now horrified, watched him leave. “Is... is he like... gonna have some sorta beta heat or something soon?” he asked Colin, baffled.

Colin snorted. “I gotta tell you Harl, watchin’ that was _ painful. _I ain’t seen a screw up like that since the Falcons lost the Super Bowl.”

Harley frowned at him. “It wasn’t that bad,” he complained.

Colin snorted. “Uh huh. You just tell yourself that,” he said and left.

Harley growled into his paperwork.

When he finally got home it was pissing rain and Harley damn near drowned himself just trying to get in the front door.

“You’re late-” Abby complained from the kitchen with Emma crying on her hip. “Did you stop and help _ all _ the omegas on your way back?” she asked sarcastically over the noise while she gently jiggled the crying baby.

“I was doin' paperwork. Got an extra hour in,” Harley explained, dumping his bag on the nearest chair and kicking off his boots. “Where’s Momma?”

“She got called in two hours ago,” Abby said. “It’s Friday night. She said she could make double-”

“Yeah, I know-” Harley sighed. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I had a sandwich,” Abby said. “And Emma’s bottle is taking forever,” she complained. The bottle in question was in a pan under some running water in the sink.

Harley grunted, and fished the bottle out of the pan, testing it on his wrist. It was lukewarm at best.

“It’s close enough. Next time microwave it for 30 seconds-”

Abby looked horrified. “Mrs. Patrick said you ain’t supposed to do that- it was on our last test in Omega class** and everythin’-”

Harley snorted. “Shake it up enough so there’s no hot spots and make sure to test it first and she’ll be fine,” he said dismissively. “Go feed her and I’ll make some actual dinner.”

“But the BPA-”

“Ain’t in our bottles. I made sure of that when Momma bought ‘em.”

Abby looked skeptical, but popped the bottle in Emma’s mouth anyway and headed for the couch.

He was just finishing a pot of mac’n’cheese when the power flickered.

“Harley?” Abby called out from the couch, uncertain.

“I saw it. It’s probably the storm,” he said, and hurried to microwave the last of the leftover chicken. He pulled it just as the power went out.

For a split second, nothing happened as they froze- then Emma started to wail.

Harley sighed, and peeked outside- and didn’t see any lights on at the Johnson’s across the way.

“Looks like at least the block is out,” he said. “You stay put. I’ll get the lantern.”

They ate by lantern light. Emma was fussy so he held her in his lap. He jiggled the leg she sat on and shoved a spoon with a couple of noodles on it in her mouth whenever she opened it to fuss. Half the time, Harley suspected she fussed because she knew she’d get more noodles. She liked mac’n’cheese. At least this way it wasn’t in her hair and half the floor.

“Harley?” Abby asked as Harley shoved another spoonful into Emma’s mouth. There was something about her tone that set off alarm bells in Harley’s head. It was... hesitant. Hopeful. And sickly sweet.

Immediately suspicious, he gave her his full attention. “Yeah?”

She was pushing a piece of chicken around on her plate. “I was thinkin'... I mean- wondering-”

“Yes?” Harley prompted, narrowing his eyes.

“I just. I’ve done all my chores. And I’ve helped with Emma all week-”

“You have,” Harley agreed neutrally. Carefully.

“Can- can I go shopping with Amber tomorrow? There’s a sale on swimsuits-” she wheedled.

“You can go next week,” Harley said calmly. “You’re still grounded. And so’s Amber.”

“Amber’s not grounded no more! She only got 3 days-” Abby protested.

“That’s up to her Momma. But you lied to me, Abigail Grace. Not only that but you went and hooked up with some... some _ alpha _. I looked into him. Did you know that he’s my age? He’s 17 Abby. That’s too old. And it’s time that you start doing more around the house even when you’re not grounded. Tomorrow is Momma’s day off. I expect you to wait on her hand and foot, Abby. Let her rest and watch her stories.”

Abby sputtered. “_What? _ But- I already _ do _chores-”

“You could be makin' dinner. You get home early enough, and you’re old enough. There’s also moppin' and sweepin'- that sort of thing. And this summer you’re gonna to be watchin' Emma more,” Harley said firmly. “I’m gonna try and work full time at the shop. Get some savin’s put away.”

She frowned at him. “I thought you was goin’ to college.”

He stilled a bit, and gave Emma another bite. “You don’t worry about that,” he said stiffly. “You do your chores and help with Emma. Me and Momma will take care of the rest.”

She sulked at her plate. “It’s just... it’s been a whole _ week _ , Harley. And I _ said _I was sorry-”

“I know. And you can wait until next week to go.”

She stewed. “But- there’s a sale on-” she protested.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What would you even get?” he demanded.

“Swimsuits-”

“There’s a sale. On swimsuits. In _ April_,” Harley said skeptically.

“It’s at the mall in Knoxville,” Abby rushed, spotting an opening. “Amber’s mom is gonna take us-”

“Knoxville?” Harley asked dubiously. “And don’t your swimsuit from last year still fit you?”

Abby squirmed a bit. “Barely!” she protested. “And it’s not in style no more!”

Harley hummed. Eyed her. Something was... off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his gut wasn’t happy with the idea.

“First of all, you’re grounded this weekend, so no,” Harley said firmly.

“But-!”

“Second of all, I don’t want you goin' to Knoxville without me. There’s been tales of omega snatchers goin’ around-” he talked over her.

“But- I- I haven’t even presented yet!” she protested. “I don’t even have a Scent!”

Harley ignored her. “And last of all, if I let you go down there with Amber whatever you buy we’ll just have to return anyway.”

“What-?!” she sputtered angrily.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You think I don’t know that Amber’s momma is okay with her wearing little more than string and postage stamps?” he asked darkly while Abby choked on her mac’n’cheese.

“It’s called a _ bikini _Harley- and it ain’t a postage stamp-” she whined.

“Because I ain’t okay with it. Not even close. And I know you Abby- you’d buy somethin' and try to pull the whole ‘it's too far to return, guess we’ll just have to keep it’ routine.”

“_I wouldn’t _-”

“I know because it’s _ exactly _ what I did when I was your age,” Harley continued blithely. “I practically _ invented _ that trick, so I ain’t gonna fall for it.”

Now she didn’t just sulk, she full on pouted. Arms crossed, scowling at her plate, pouted. Harley held in a smile. _ Silly pup. _ He might sound like he’d fallen off a turnip truck yesterday, but she had _ nothing _ on some of the trick’s he’d pulled over the years.

It took an effort to not tell her that she was being extra adorable right now. It’d just piss her off even more, so Harley held his peace.

He gave the last bite of his mac’n’cheese to Emma and watched Abby idly push the last bit of chicken around her plate.

“You finish your homework?”

She shrugged listlessly.

“You got math?”

“Multiplying fractions,” she said with zero enthusiasm.

“Get your book. We’ll go over it together.”

She laid it out reluctantly on the table. “I _ hate _ fractions,” she complained.

He shrugged. “They do kinda suck.”

“I just don’t know when I’m ever gonna use them,” she complained, looking over her textbook.

Harley snorted. “In the kitchen, _ omega, _ ” he said with fond sarcasm. “You use 'em in the _ kitchen _.”

She deflated even more and scowled at him. “How many times do I gotta say it? I ain’t presented yet-”

“And god help us when you do,” he said flatly. “Now, let’s start with number 1-”

They did math homework by lantern light while the storm raged outside.

“You got anything else?” he asked after they finished the last problem.

“I’m supposed to read this book but it’s stupid,” Abby complained.

“Let’s see it,” Harley said, and took the slim paperback from Abby. He raised an eyebrow. “Of Mice and Men?” he asked. “Thought they didn’t teach that no more.”

“Mrs. Thomas says Mr. Hardy and Mr. Roberts went through and blacked out the n-words in the book for us,” she said. “So it’s okay.”

Harley hummed skeptically. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was past Emma’s bedtime- and he wasn’t about to put her to bed in Momma’s room without a working baby monitor.

“You wanna make a pillow fort, and I can read it to you? It can be y’alls bedtime story.” It’d been ages since he’d made a fort with Abby. “We can sleep together in the livin’ room. It’d be like old times.”

Of course, they’d slept together in the living room because the heat had been turned off, but he wasn’t sure if she remembered that part.

She flushed. “I don’t _ need _a bedtime story Harley,” she fussed.

“Well I ain’t putting Emma to bed where I can’t reach her with this all goin’ on,” Harley said. “And she needs a bedtime story and you need to read it. So... you joinin’ us? Or am I gonna be doing ‘Elmo’s Farm’ again?”

She hesitated, but a sudden crash of thunder from way to close by that made them all jump and Emma cry sealed the deal.

“I’ll get the blankets, you get the mattress,” she said.

It was easier this time around- he was big enough now that he didn’t have to strain to shove the couch back or pull the mattress out of the pull out couch.

He let Abby arrange the blankets. As an alpha, he’d never really given much care to his bedding arrangements. As long as he was warm he was happy. But just like Momma, Abby was picky about what order the blankets were put on. He watched as she carefully took a blanket, folded it in half, and laid it over the bottom of the bed.

“Thought blankets was suppose'ta go up to your chin,” he observed idly from the safety of the nearby lazy boy.

“It’s so your feet don’t get cold but the rest of you don’t overheat,” Abby said, as if this was obvious.

“Yes omega,” he teased, trying to hold back a smile. Predictably, she scowled at him.

“Where’s your leg pillow?” she demanded.

“Leg pillow?”

“The one you put between your knees,” Abby demanded.

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You don’t have a leg pillow?”

“... no?” he said, somewhat baffled.

She frowned at him. Stared at the mound of pillows on her side, and the singular lone pillow on his.

“That’s all you have?”

“Yes?”

“Not even a front pillow to hug?” she demanded, clearly scandalized.

He snickered. “No _ omega_. I don’t.”

“How do you _ sleep_?” she asked, clearly disgusted.

“Perfectly fine. Get on with it already. Emma’s gonna get fussy soon.”

Grumbling, she fluffed, refluffed and prodded until things were to her liking.

She’d present any day now, Harley thought idly as he watched her inexpertly nest. Probably within the month. He should check the storeroom before he went shopping on Tuesday. Make sure they had enough Gatorade and heat bars.

“You like Gatorade Abby?” he asked absently.

“No. I like powerade,” she said.

“Which one’s your favorite?”

She shrugged. “The blue one, I guess. Why?”

“No reason.”

He added it to the shopping list on his phone.

“It’s ready,” she said finally, and Harley handed the baby over before joining them on the mattress. Abby had to scoot further over than he remembered to make room for him. He minutely adjusted a couple of pillows so that he could sit up while Abby curled around Emma.

He cleared his throat.

“A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkin’ over the yella sands in the sunlight-”

To keep it interesting, he did his best to do voices for the characters. It was depressingly easy to do Lennie- the hulking alpha with some sort of... brain damage. Back in the day they would have called him retarded. George though- he eventually settled for a higher beta voice for him. The text never said what George was- it was something his teacher said they were still debating about as the author had refused to say.

He remembered they’d read the damn book just before he’d presented when he was still small- a blessing as it turned out as several beta classmates had taken to calling one or two of the bigger alphas “Lennie”.

Not that that had lasted long. A few head shaped dents in locker doors after gym class quickly nipped that fad in the bud.

He paused when he came to the first blacked out word. At first it puzzled him, then he remembered that Abby had said they’d censored out the n-word. He hummed a bit indecisively, before settling on “black fella”. He’d never said that word personally, and wasn’t about to start now. Besides- he didn’t want the girls hearing it. It was just... too ugly.

By the third chapter his voice was starting to get tired. He peeked down at the girls and smiled. They were both out like a light. He put the book down and turned the lantern down to its lowest setting before settling in.

He woke up with the sun in his face and the sound of someone quietly working in the kitchen. He stretched- and nearly knocked the lamp off the end table.

“I see someone’s finally awake,” Momma called from the kitchen, sounding amused.

Harley grunted, stretched his neck and yawned. “Wa- wha time issit?” he mumbled.

“It’s near noon,” she said. “You must be growin’ again.”

Harley winced, and reached for his phone- his alarm should have woken him- and it was dead. Well, that explained it. “Don’t jinx me, omega,” he groused. “Last thing I need is to buy _ more _ pants.”

“I keep telling you- buy them long and unroll them as you go,” Momma half teased. “It’ll save you money. And speaking of new pants- you should get some. Your ankles are starting to show again. It’s damn near indecent. It’ll give all those poor omegas the vapors.”

Harley groaned. “Please tell me there’s somethin’ to eat.”

“There’s ham and some eggs in the oven.”

Harley hummed, and staggered into the kitchen, giving Emma a kiss in her high chair as he passed. She laughed and tried to feed him bits of last night's mac’n’cheese.

“No thank you pumpkin. You eat it,” he cooed, and gave her another kiss before taking the plate out of the oven.

Momma, being a saint, put a cup of coffee in front of him without him even needing to ask. He sighed contentedly. He’d slept in later than he’d intended, true. But he didn’t have work today for once. Technically he had errands to run. But he COULD do them tomorrow... but that would mean trying to get it done before the stores closed and before his shift started.

To fuck around today or not?

He pondered this problem as he sipped his coffee and ate his ham. It’d been ages since he’d had time to sit and watch a show. Maybe he could watch something on Netflix- and his new voltage reader was in. He could _ finally _ try stepping down the arc reactor...

He was halfway through his plate before he realized the house was too quiet.

“Where’s Abby?” he asked.

“She went down to Knoxville with Amber to get a new swimsuit.”

Harley froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “She was _ grounded_, Momma,” he said, miffed. “She asked me last night and I told her no. Did she mention that?”

Momma stopped what she was doing and stood quietly in place in front of the sink.

“Momma?”

“I- I heard you Harley,” she said quietly.

“Well?” he demanded.

She sighed. “She mentioned it. I told her she could go.”

“_Momma _\- what-” Harley said, scandalized.

“Harley- it’s time you and I had a talk honey,” she said softly. She turned, leaned back against the sink and looked at him. Her eyes looked... sad?

“What?” he asked, confused.

“No- you- you hush a moment,” she said firmly, though her voice shook a little. “Now I know you work hard, and I appreciate that. You’re a good boy and you’ve helped me a lot over the years.”

Harley stared at her. He had a bad feeling in his gut about this.

“But- you are NOT the alpha of this house. You _ cannot _ be grounding Abby like that.”

He stared at her with wide eyes. “What?” he asked flatly.

“You just can’t Harley. You’re my pup, and I know- I know I haven’t been the best mother in the past, but it’s high time I step up and- and you need to take a step back.”

Harley stared at her. It felt like someone had just knocked the wind right out of him.

“She lied to me,” Harley said, flatly. “She snuck off to be with an alpha.”

Momma nodded. “Yes Harley. It’s called ‘being a teenager’,” she said dismissively.

“He’s older than her. A lot older. She lied about her age on a facebook page. Roped Amber in too- got her to lie to her momma.”

Momma pressed her lips together. “And she’s served her time,” she said decisively. “And you are not her father- she doesn’t answer to you-”

He stared at her. “Have you been drinkin’ again?” he demanded, standing. “Because I _ will _ tear this fuckin' house apart and pour it all out-” he growled. “I don’t care how much you paid for it-”

Her eyes got wide, then narrowed with anger. “No. I have not been drinking,” she snapped. “You are my pup-”

“Are you sure about that? Because last time I checked, _ I’m _ the one who pays the rent on this house,” Harley said calmly. Too calmly. “I also pay for the electric. _And_ the gas.”

He loomed over her. “I’ve been payin’ them for years. And before that I paid for food so that she wouldn’t go hungry. I got her to school and helped with her homework. I took care of her. **I ** did. _ Not you_. So don’t you EVER tell me that she’s not my concern no more,” he snarled.

She gaped up at him in shock. “Harley-” she protested.

He loomed harder. “I will NOT let her go down the same path you did. And don’t think for one minute I didn’t know what you was doing- coming home at 1 in the mornin’ smelling of drink and strange alphas. That is if you ever came home at all,” Harley sneered, his eyes hard. “_I won’t have it_. She’s a _ child_, Momma. She’s 13. She’s too young to be out runnin’ wild with guys my age.”

For a second, just a split second, he smelled omega fear.

He backed off the tiniest bit. “Now if you don’t like how I do things, that’s fine. I’ll move out,” he said coldly. “And when you start drinkin’ again I’ll call CPS and take custody of the girls when I turn 18.”

She gaped at him like a fish.

“Well?” he demanded after a minute of silence.

“What?” she whispered.

“Do you want me. To move out?” he said slowly, emphasizing each word.

She blinked rapidly, and wiped at her face.

“Harley- you- you don’t mean that-” she protested weakly.

“I do,” he said, his face stern. “Now- do you want me to move out? Yes or no?”

“I- no. I don’t,” she said quietly after a long moment.

He studied her for a moment, then took a breath and schooled his face into something softer.

“Good. Because I want to take care of you,” he said. “I’m gonna work full time during the summer and get some money saved up for you and the girls. So you don’t have to worry so much.”

He gave her a hug and kissed her forehead. “I love you Momma,” he said gently. “I just want what’s best for y’all.”

“I know,” she said faintly.

“Now it’s your day off, so I want you to relax and watch something. I know you ain’t done that for a while. I’m gonna go get Abby and I’ll help her cook some dinner. She needs to learn. What do ya want to eat?”

Momma blinked. She looked... confused for some reason. Wary. “I... I guess some spaghetti would be nice.”

“You want the garlic bread from Mario's?” Harley asked. “I can stop and get some on the way back from Knoxville.”

She sniffed, and nodded. “That- that would be nice,” she said softly, her voice unsteady.

He smiled down at her. “Good. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said and gave her another quick forehead kiss. He ruffled Emma’s hair on his way to the garage. He hooked his phone up to a charger and once it turned on, called Mrs. Costel’s cell phone.

It took a couple of rings before she answered. “Hello?” she asked.

“Hi Ms. Costel. It’s Harley. I’m sorry to call you, but Abby is suppose'ta be grounded today. There was a bit of confusion this mornin’. Are y'all with her right now?”

There was a pause. “No?” Ms. Costel sounded confused. “Why would she be?”

Harley closed his eyes and willed himself to breathe. “She told Momma that she was goin’ into Knoxville with you and Amber to buy swimsuits.”

“Well, Amber’s still grounded. We’re all home right now... hang on a minute,” she said grimly.

There was a sound of angry footsteps and a door being slammed open. “AMBER!” she roared- her voice partially muffled.

There was muffled shouting in the background. Eventually Mrs. Costel came back on.

“She says she doesn’t know where Abby is. I’m _ so sorry _ Harley.”

Harley let out a breath. “I- it’s alright. I got a tracker on her phone,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you Mrs. Costel.”

“It’s not a problem Harley,” Mrs. Costel said kindly. “You call me any time.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and hung up.

He stared at the phone for a long moment, his stomach twisting itself into knots. It took an effort to not throw something.

He brought up the tracking app and turned it on.

It took a few seconds, but eventually a dot appeared on a map. In the middle of no-where. He frowned at it.

_ WTF? _

Where the hell WAS she?

He hastily turned on his computer and put the coordinates into google maps.

What the hell was she doing in the middle of Chuck Swan State Forest???

He switched to the satellite view. Maybe... maybe there was a hiking trail nearby? Cell phone trackers weren’t always the most reliable-

And then he saw it. A little house thing in the middle of a clearing. It had a red tin roof.

He stared at it, then scrambled to bring up Bobby’s cell phone pictures. It took a few moments of frantic scrolling before he found it- a picture of Abby and Aaron sitting on a porch of a small cabin type house. It had a red tin roof.

He growled, and dialed Abby’s cell phone.

It rang. And rang. He stared at the little house on the satellite image, as if he could will her to answer.

Eventually someone picked up the phone.

“Abigail Grace,” he growled. “You have exactly twenty minutes to get your butt home-”

A voice on the other end sniggered. “She’s ah, busy right now dude,” a man said.

Harley’s stomach dropped. “Put her on.”

“I told you. She’s _ busy _\- wanna leave a message?” the man asked sarcastically. In the background, he could hear laughter.

Harley hung up the phone. Stared at the wall for a moment. Slammed the laptop shut.

He called Evan and started to dig in an old box at the back of his garage.

“What’s up?” Evan asked.

“Where are you?” Harley snapped.

“I’m at home, playing Call of Duty. Why?” Evan asked, confused.

“Drop what you're doin'. Get your baseball bat. I’m pickin' you up in 10 minutes,” Harley said grimly.

“What- _ why _?”

“Abby’s in the middle of a god damn forest with her fuckin' 17 year old boyfriend and his fuckin' friends. I’m gonna bring her home.”

There was a moment of silence. “Do I need to get the one with nails in?” Evan asked seriously.

“No. The nails on that are fake anyway,” Harley complained. “Just get your bat,” he growled.

“I’m on it,” Evan said grimly. “See you in 10.”

Harley made it in 8. He didn’t even need to pull in the driveway. Evan was already there with his bat waiting for him in the front yard. Harley stopped just long enough for Evan to climb in before peeling out.

“Where is this place anyway?”

“Chuck Swan State Forest,” Harley said.

Evan grimaced. “The only thing out there is freakin’ moonshiners and meth labs. What the _ hell _is Abby thinking?”

“I have no earthly idea,” Harley said bitterly.

When they got there, Harley barely remembered to put the truck in park first before he got out, holding a metal bat of his own. He used it to “knock” on the door.

An alpha answered. “What-”

Harley ignored him and pushed past him with Evan hot on his heels.

“ABBY?” he shouted.

“What the fuck dude-”

Harley ignored the gathered alphas, most of whom were hastily brushing off bits of chips or putting down bongs as he stormed through. He found a door, and kicked it open. Abby and Aaron were in bed.

“GET OFFA HER!” Harley roared, and ripped the alpha off the bed. The boy screeched a bit as he bounced off the nearby wall.

“Abby-” he breathed, and hovered over her. She was down to her underwear and was shivering and gasping, her eyes dilated and hazy.

“Harley?” Evan asked, concerned, and hovering behind him. “She don’t look so good-”

Harley frowned down at her. A sudden horrible thought gripped him. He leaned down and scented her neck.

_ Heat. _It was faint, but it was there.

He swore viciously.

“She’s gone inta her first heat,” he said. “Jesus Mary and Joseph,” he swore.

Behind him, there was a cocking of a shotgun. Harley turned.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are-” the alpha said. Bobby, Harley thought faintly. It was Bobby. “But ya'll trespassing-” he snarled.

“Evan?” Harley said quietly.

“Yeah?” he asked nervously.

“You get Abby out of here. You hear me?” Harley said, and tossed Evan his keys.

“Harley-” Evan protested.

“You get her _ out _ of here,” he said calmly, and adjusted the grip on his bat. He took a breath.

Stared down the piece of shit alpha that stood in the way of getting his omega out of danger and back home. Took a step forward. Snarled from the center of his very bones.

Bobby blinked. Looked uncertain. He gulped and took a step back.

“I- I means it-” Bobby said, his voice shaking.

Harley swung his bat and ROARED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... that happened. Sorry/not sorry for the cliffhanger. There’s a reason I’m cutting there, which will be clear later. *ducks behind sofa* I SWEAR it’s related to the Plot. Just be patient. 
> 
> Some of you guys are probably a bit shocked at how he treated his mother- but to him, she’s not been his mother for a LONG time- instead she’s just a drunken omega he’s had to babysit that just keeps making new people for him to take care of. And he’s been doing it for as long as he can remember. He’s just Doing His Best to keep Abby from well- turning into his Momma. And if he has to “put her in her place” to do it, then by god he will. 
> 
> Is his way the best way? The healthiest? FUCK NO. But he’s not exactly had many role models for how to do this. The struggle here is real. Poor baby is gonna need all the therapy. 
> 
> The big question here is: How will he fare in a home type environment where he’s not the top alpha? Stay tuned to find out. 
> 
> (Stop and say a quick prayer for Steve. This here is gonna be a bumpy road for everyone.) 
> 
> *JPL- Nasa’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory. They’re in charge of the Mars Rover and other mechanical stuff that gets shot into space. 
> 
> ** It’s like home ec. But you learn about taking care of babies in addition to the cooking and the sewing. 
> 
> I also made a small detail change to chapter 30. 
> 
> Also- a quick shout out to Evan- who is truly a ride or die kind of guy.


	42. A Hell of a Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I will spell Tennessee correctly while googling stuff. Someday.
> 
> Edit: I went a little off the rails with Harley's accent in this chapter, and Eannt called me out on it. 
> 
> Thank you Eannt! I've gone through the last few chapters that had Harley in it and cleaned things up a smidgen. I've also done a minor rewrite of his dialogue in this chapter, to try to clean up his accent. I struggle with accents, so I predict this problem will happen again in the future. Y'all are here to keep me in check! Don't be afraid to call me out! It's how I get better as a writer!

Harley woke up, groaned, and tried to shove a thing (a... door??) off of him- and immediately regretted every life choice he’d ever made. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what the hell was making that fucking _ ringing _ sound-

And everything hurt. _ Everything. _

He gritted his teeth and kicked the damn thing off. He looked around. The trees at the border of the clearing smoldered, and held bits of what looked like pieces of house in them.

The building itself was a total loss- and was that a goddamn _ crater _?

What-

_ Abby. _

He forced himself to roll over- and found his truck to be missing. Which meant that at the very least Evan must have gotten away. He tried to get up, and failed utterly.

Maybe he should rest first. That... that sounded like a good idea. He should do that. He laid his head down in the dirt and closed his eyes.

Just for a minute.

The next thing he knew someone was shoving something around his neck. He snarled.

Someone was talking at him but he couldn’t fucking _ hear _them-

Hands rolled him onto his back and he lashed out- throwing one of them off him. Shouting from several people around him followed- he kicked a bit, trying to get them off him- until something cool spread out from a sharp pinch in his leg.

He tried to fight it- but whatever the hell it was, it took him under.

_ And what the fuck was with that ringing noise???? _

*****

He snorted awake, and flinched and groaned as the sudden movement made his ribs scream.

“Are you finally awake, you fucking crazy bastard?” a voice said to his left.

Harley cracked open an eye. “Evan?” he croaked.

At least the god damned ringing had stopped.

“No. I’m your older brother Hugh,” Evan said seriously. Was he seriously flipping through a magazine right now??? “And _ you _ are Harry Dickerson. Don’t laugh, you’ve probably got broken ribs.”

Harley leaned back. “Evan-” he said faintly.

“I’m sorry. I only respond to Hugh now,” Evan deadpanned. “Seriously- I had to tell them _ something _ to let me back here. Shut up already. Do you, or do you NOT want a huge fucking hospital bill?”

Harley sighed. Or partially sighed before his ribs made him stop. He felt like he was forgetting something-

ABBY.

“Abby-” he blurted, and tried to sit up.

“She’s at home,” Evan hissed. “Seriously. SHUT UP,” he whispered urgently. “I got her out just like you asked. You’re a fucking _ idiot _ you know that? What the hell were you thinking- they had _ guns _-”

Harley ignored him. “She’s safe?” he asked quietly.

Evan rubbed his face. “Yeah. She’s at your momma’s house,” he said. “I called 911 once I reached the main road. Said there was an alpha fight. I didn’t expect you to _ blow the fucking place up- _ ” he hissed angrily. “What the fuck did you _ do _?”

Harley blinked. “Don’t remember-” he said tiredly.

“Yeah well, there’s a fucking crater now that you can see from the god-damned moon and you’re lucky it rained last night or half of a fucking STATE FOREST would be on fire right now,” Evan complained. “It’s on the fucking news and everything.”

Harley sighed. “Help me up,” he said.

Evan stared at him for a long minute. “Fine. But if you crush me, I’m gonna throw you under the fucking bus,” he grumbled. “And I brought you a robe. I figured we’d be dining and dashing eventually. And yes- I know I’m a saint. You can give me a thank you blow job later.”

Harley snorted, but didn’t argue. It took a couple of attempts for Evan to get Harley sitting up, and Evan had to put the robe on him. They didn’t bother taking the hospital gown off.

“Do you see my shoes?” Harley asked tiredly.

“No. And we need to hurry-” Evan said, peeking out the door. “They’re all busy with some of your victims but that won’t last for long.” He came back, and helped Harley rip all of his doodads and his IV off. The monitors weren’t happy about it, but Harley didn’t care.

He had to throw an arm over the beta’s shoulders, but somehow he got upright, and together they walked/staggered/did a long prolonged fall down a hallway and out a side door. They had to off road for a little bit across a garden thing but no-one stopped them.

By the time they got to the truck (which was all the way at the back of the parking lot) Harley was fairly sure he was going to die. Evan opened the back door to the cab of the pick up and helped shove him in (mostly by pushing on his ass then folding his legs in) before climbing in the front seat and driving off.

He must have passed out again because the next thing he knew someone was poking his leg.

“Come on you _ bastard_. You can’t die in your car. You promised me I’d get it if you ever died, remember? They’ll seize it for evidence or something. At least bleed out on the god damned driveway,” Evan bitched. “Haunt your own fucking house. You’ll be happier.”

Harley grunted. “I ain’t dead yet,” he complained.

In the end, Evan had to go get Momma to help drag him out of the truck cab and inside onto the sofa bed.

“Harley JAMES- what the hell _ happened _ ?” Momma demanded, aghast. “And where are your _clothes_?”

“Got hit by a car,” Harley grunted. “Woke up in the hospital. Left before they could charge me with anythin',” he grumbled.

Momma stared at him. “Are you alright?” she demanded, outraged.

Harley gave her a wincing smile. “Just bruised- and a small ding on the head, that’s all. I’ve had worse,” he lied. “I’m just real sore. Can I have some Tylenol Momma? Please?” Harley whined.

Momma clicked her tongue. “I think I’ve got some with codeine in it,” she said, and headed for the hallway. He waited for her to leave.

“What did you tell her?” he demanded, whispering.

Evan shrugged. “I said Abby started going into heat in the car and you wanted to get some supplies so you asked me to bring her home. Told her I was gonna go meet you somewhere,” he whispered back. “And then I found out your fetish for explosions happened again,” he complained.

Harley leaned back into the mattress. “How’d you find me anyway?”

“My cousin Jenny got a job as a police dispatcher a month ago. I asked her, and when that didn’t work I threatened to tell her boss about her pill habit,” Evan said tersely. “Seriously Harley- I am so fucking PISSED at you right now. I should have taken my dad’s fucking shotgun, not my fucking god damn little leauge baseball bat-” he whispered furiously.

“They’s crack heads, not the fucking _ Ten Rings _,” Harley hissed back. “How the fuck was I suppose'ta know-”

“REDNECK crack heads you _ fucking _ moron-” Evan hissed back. “I thought we were going after fucking pedos- I could just smack you right now, you know that?”

“AHA! Found it. It’s old- but it should be okay,” Momma called from the hallway. Evan hastily sat in the lazy boy and tried to look like he’d always been there. She reappeared a couple of seconds later with some pills and glass of water.

“Thank you Momma,” Harley said and downed the pills. “How’s Abby holdin’ up?”

Momma sighed. “She’s miserable. And I am_ so sorry _ Evan- I know it’s not uncommon for omegas to strip during their first heat but that must have been... uncomfortable for you-”

Evan gave her a tight smile. “It’s fine Mrs. Keener. Abby’s like a sister to me. She was just a bit warm that’s all. I just hope she won’t be traumatized knowing I saw her in her panties-”

Momma waved a hand dismissively. “It’s her first heat, honey. She won’t remember _ nothin’_,” she reassured him. “I think it’d be better if we just pretend it never happened.”

“I’m down with that,” Evan said, clearly relieved.

Emma started to fuss in the back room. “Oh, Emma-” Momma said, sounding stressed and went back down the hallway.

“Go check the store room, will ya?” Harley asked. “See if we’ve got heat bars. And bring me my laptop? I think The Food Tree does instacart delivery now.”

Evan rolled his eyes but did as he was asked. “You’ve got gatorade coming out the ears,” he called from the garage. “And a box of heat bars,” he said, and reemerged with Harley’s laptop and a can of pop.

“Thanks Evan,” Harley said. “I don’t think I’m movin’ again for a while.”

Evan snorted and gently tossed it onto the sofa bed before collapsing heavily into the Lazy Boy. He sat there quietly for a moment as Harley booted up his laptop.

“You think we got away with it?” Evan asked.

Harley considered. “Mrs. Costel is a loose end. I called her- she knows Abby went missin’ for a bit.”

“We can tell her it hit her while she was out riding her bike,” Evan said thoughtfully, cracking open the pop.

Harley rubbed his face. “Maybe. But I’m missin’ my phone-”

Evan snorted. “Good thing you’re 17 then,” he said calmly.

Harley hummed. “Cops ‘round here usually fall for the ‘Lennie’ bit anyway-” Harley said levelly.

“Lennie?”

“I’m big. Therefore I must be borderline retarded, right?” Harley said and poked at his laptop. “Can’t be responsible for nothin’ if I can barely tie my own shoes, now can I?”

Evan choked a bit on his pop. “You’re an asshole and a detriment to alphakind,” he said.

“You’re damn right I am,” Harley agreed. “Just one big walkin’ stereotype.”

“Well... you’re not exactly walkin’ right now-” Evan sassed.

Harley threw a pillow. Or rather, tried to. Evan dodged it easily while Harley swore and held his ribs.

Evan left right as the drugs started to kick in, and Harley spent the day watching netflix and trying not to laugh. Or breathe too hard. Or sit that one way. Eventually Momma helped him get the damn hospital gown off and change his bandages on his cuts. That was nice.

He slept on the sofa bed in some boxers and a robe because it was easier, only slightly high on Tylenol and whatever the hell else Momma had found in the hall closet.

On Sunday he woke up, ate more pizza and watched more Netflix. He helped with Emma- or at least, he took a nap with her and gave her her bottle. He barely remembered to call into the shop. He was definitely going to take at least 3 or 4 days off. Maybe 2. Who knows- he’d have to call them again later.

He was on the fourth episode of She-Ra and the Princess of Power when he thought- _ Maybe- just maybe... I’ve gotten away with it. _

And then the FBI kicked down his front door.

They handcuffed him and took him down to the station, where they put him in a small room and cuffed him to a table. Then they left him there. There was a clock on the wall, but he wasn’t sure if it helped or enhanced his suffering. Normally if he got stuck waiting he’d try to take a nap- maybe lay his head down on the table, but his ribs wouldn’t let him. So he just sat there and tried to focus on breathing while his mind ran in circles screaming.

2 hours and seven minutes later two men finally came in. He watched as one set up a video camera on a tripod and aimed it at him. They were betas, and their cheap suits screamed some sort of ‘federal agent’. He tried to look disinterested, even though his heart raced.

Eventually, they sat, and stared at him, notepads and pens at the ready.

“I’m Agent Crane, and this is Agent Bolton. For the record, it is Sunday, April 21st,” Crane said. “And we are investigating an explosion that occurred yesterday. Do you know anything about that Harley?”

Harley eyed the camera. “Is that there thing recordin’?” he asked warily, laying his accent on extra thick.

_ I’m just a stupid alpha who throws hay around and fixes cars. I can’t possibly know anything. _

Or at least, that’s what he tried to project.

Bolton nodded. “Yes. It’s just a formality though- don’t worry about it,” he lied, smiling.

Harley cleared his throat, and leaned forward a bit. “I want. A Lawyer,” he said, slowly loudly and clearly. “I am... invokin.’ My right. To remain silent.”

Both betas frowned at him.

“Don’t be so rash, Mr. Keener,” Agent Bolton said. “We just want to talk.”

“I’m sure that there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for that device in your garage. Maybe you were holding it for someone- if you were to tell us who gave it to you, we could come to an arrangement with the judge,” Agent Crane said.

Harley frowned at them. All the cop shows said that once you’d said the Magic Words the cops had to release you or they had 48 hours to charge you with a crime. Or something. That’s what they did on Law and Order anyway.

“The nurses at the hospital say you were banged up pretty good,” Agent Crane said when Harley didn’t say anything. “Must not have been too bad since you bolted from the hospital. That’s lucky for you. Everyone else is in a coma or dead.”

He didn’t particularly feel very tore up about that. Fucking pedos...

“We are curious to know who exactly... Hugh Dickerson is though,” Agent Bolton said, consulting his notes, and Harley felt a stab of panic. Him going down for this shit show was one thing- but Evan?

He stared down at his hands, feeling lost.

“I want a lawyer,” Harley said firmly. “You suppose'ta leave me alone when I ask for a lawyer,” he griped.

They frowned at him.

“You know, Harley, playing hard to get will not end well for you,” Agent Bolton said. “If you don’t talk you’re going to jail.”

Harley sniffed. If he talked he was definitely going to jail. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $200.

He stared at his hands and squeezed them together. Hitting things wasn’t the answer here. He needed to be quiet. Meek even. “I want. A lawyer,” he growled as non-threateningly as possible.

He’d never been good at “meek”.

Agent Colton sighed, and stood. The other agent did as well.

“Last chance Harley. Once we walk out that door, there will be no deals.”

Harley glared at a wall. Of course he wouldn’t get a deal. He was an alpha from fucking Rose Hill. With luck he might get out early on good behavior. And if they managed to actually get into his encrypted file section... Was there a law against stealing nuclear secrets from a foreign country? He was fairly sure there was.

Not that they would find them. Hopefully. He’d had Jarvis install something for security and then he’d upgraded it over the years. His laptop would automatically sign itself out if a face other than his own came into view of the webcam without him typing in a code. Three wrong tries and it would also show that “ah ah ah! You didn’t say the magic word!” screensaver from Jurassic Park on the screen before turning itself off. It was the only way to keep fucking Abby out of his shit.

But if he could get to a phone- he could tell it to wipe itself remotely, and do a few other things.

They had phones in jail, right?

At least Drivers didn’t care if you had a prison record, he thought distantly. And no matter what happened- he could kiss Caltech and NASA goodbye.

But then again- it wasn’t like it would have ever happened in the first place, really. He’d dreamed too big, and the universe was smacking him back down to where he belonged.

It was a stupidly familiar feeling.

They made a big deal of slowly gathering their things and leaving.

They did not, he noticed, take the camera.

So he sat silently and waited. He pointedly did NOT rip the fucking metal thing he was cuffed to off the table, despite how much he wanted to.

Eventually someone came and they took him to Union County Jail.

They patted him down, scanned his fingerprints, and had him stand against a wall with numbers on it for a picture.

“Stand up straight son,” the beta working the camera scolded.

Harley winced, but put his shoulders back. He did not smile for the picture.

They stuck him in a waiting room, where he sat on a bench, handcuffed to a wall. Others, he noted, (all men) were also handcuffed but they got to sit on folding chairs.

People came and went, mostly deputies in their uniforms. Occasionally one would come and escort one of the people in handcuffs away.

Eventually three alpha deputies came and stood in front of him. “It’s time to go see the nurse,” one of them gruffly. “You ain’t gonna give us no trouble, are you now, Mr. Keener?”

“Because it don’t end well for you if you do,” another growled.

Harley did not miss that the third deputy had his baton out already.

He had to fight back an instinct to snarl back at them. They were too close. He settled for glaring at the floor, and gritting his teeth together.

_ Don’t hit them. Hitting cops was bad. Especially with the cameras. _

“I ain’t gonna cause no trouble,” he managed, but even he didn’t believe that since it came out sounding like he was two seconds from losing his shit.

The guy in the center rumbled a warning at him.

It took every scrap of willpower Harley had in him to not snarl back.

They were trying to goad him. Maybe trying to get more charges on him. He had to fucking CONTROL himself, god damn it. He stared at the floor.

Once they were satisfied that he wasn’t going to do anything, they cautiously uncuffed him from the wall then basically frogmarched him down a hallway into a little room that had a computer set up at a little desk and a doctor’s scale shoved into a corner. A slight omega sat on the other side of the table, watching him dispassionately.

They shoved him onto a folding chair.

“You so much as frown at her and you will _ regret _it boy, you hear me?” one of the men growled in his ear. Thankfully, he’d been expecting the threat the minute he’d seen her, so he didn’t react to it.

“Stop provoking the inmates Carl,” the woman scolded. “You’re gonna be good for me, ain’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, struggling. The omega meant he was less likely to get the shit kicked out of him in this room that decidedly had no cameras. He damn near shook with stress. He didn’t want to freak her out, but he also wanted the guards to just... back the fuck OFF already.

“Would you back off him Carl?” she snapped. “The poor man smells about ready to have a heart attack,” she scolded. She got up and walked around the desk to gently and cautiously put a hand on his shoulder.

“Take a breath, honey. Nice and slow. How old are you sweetheart?”

“17,” Harley said.

She frowned at the guards. “What the hell is he doin’ here? He should be in juvie-”

They shrugged. “Chief says he’s too big. Ain’t safe to take him to juvie.”

She frowned at them, then gently patted his shoulder. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing sweetheart,” she said. “Your lawyer will clear this right up soon enough.”

Harley nodded shakily. His lawyer. Right. He’d get a court appointed one, wouldn’t he? They would help him.

The thought made him feel fractionally better.

“I’m a nurse, okay? I’m gonna ask you some questions.”

She wanted to know if he was sick. (No.) If he took any medication. (No). Was he on suppressants? (No.) Was he high on anything right now? (No.)

She also asked what felt like hundreds of questions that he didn’t know. Did his daddy have diabetes or a heart condition? What about his momma?

He had no idea. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone in his family had even set foot in a doctor’s office aside from that time they went to the hospital when Emma had been born.

She weighed him- and he noted with a bit of dismay that he came in at 250 pounds. _ Jesus _, he really needed to go on a diet-----

_ Guess no time like now? _

“We don’t got uniforms in your size right now,” she told him. “We’ll have to order some from Nashville. Here’s your slippers. Don’t lose ‘em,”

He put the slides on by dropping them on the floor and shoving his feet in them.

“Can I have some Tylenol?” he asked softly. “I gotta headache.”

Which wasn’t untrue. His head ached along with the rest of him.

“I can’t give you anything until you’re put in the general population,” she said.

“When’s that?”

“After your arraignment,” she said.

Then she had him pee in a cup for a drug test. The bathroom they put him in had a full sized window in the door.

Thank god he didn’t have a shy bladder. And it was... weird. He could practically feel the gaze of the men outside pointedly watching him out of the corner of their eyes.

He found himself sitting in the folding chair again while she clicked through various screens on her computer. She paused on one, and frowned at it. Looked at him.

“You sure you’re not takin’ no medication?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And your steroids?” she asked. “How much of those you takin’?

“Ma’am?” he asked, confused.

She gave him a small smile. “Don’t you worry child. I’ve seen it all. And what you tell me here you can’t be charged with. I’m a nurse. I can’t testify against you. Now you tell me what you’re using.”

“I don’t use nothin’,” he protested.

She pursed her lips at him. “You’re not in trouble, honey. If you’re on them, we’ll need to wean ya off so you don’t run into problems. It ain’t a good idea to go cold turkey like that.”

“But... I don’t?” he said, confused. “I work outside a lot.”

She hummed at him, and returned her attention to the computer screen. “We’ll see what your urine says, alright?”

Harley frowned at the floor. Whenever they got new guys in the shop they’d always ask him what gym he used. (Like he had time or money for a gym?) But being accused of using steroids was a first.

She clicked a few more times, and printed off a piece of paper.. “And... we’re done here. Carl?” she called.

Carl came in. “He good for you Ms. Ashley?” he demanded.

She flashed a smile. “Good as gold,” she said, and handed them the paper. Carl read it, and frowned.

After that they stepped down on their posturing a bit and instead of frog marching him, they settled for nearly stepping on his heels instead. It wasn’t much of an improvement.

A few turns and they wound up in a corridor with rooms that reminded Harley of fishbowls with doors. They paraded him into one, sat him on a bench, and handcuffed him to a wall again.

“You behave yourself and we’ll _ think _ about uncuffing you,” Carl growled down at him.

Harley carefully kept his eyes on the ground. “Yes sir,” he managed. This time he only sounded like he slightly wanted to murder the man horribly.

_ God damn it. Why did he suck at this? _

Carl growled another warning at him, but Harley kept his head down, and physically bit his tongue.

_ Shut up shut up shut up. _

Eventually they left.

He looked around cautiously. The room had bare concrete walls with a single bench going down one side of it. He was at the end farthest from the wall with a window and a door in it. Cuffed to the fucking wall.

Again.

On the other side of the room, there was a stainless steel toilet that had a little drinking fountain built into the top of it. It was well out of his reach.

Other than that, the room was empty, without even a clock on the wall.

Well, there went his phone plan. Maybe they’d be too stupid to try to get into his laptop right away?

He could only hope.

And sit there.

If he wasn’t cuffed he could at least lay down on the bench. But the thing he was cuffed to was at an awkward height- he couldn’t lay down without aggravating his ribs or making the cuff feel like they were about to yank his hand off.

He tried anyway, and quickly gave up when his ribs screamed at him.

So he sat there.

The lights never turned off, and they were too bright. Even when he closed his eyes he could still see them on.

He could feel himself start to get... jittery. At least this time he only had one hand handcuffed to a wall instead of his whole body strapped to a standing gurney thing-

Nope. Don’t think about that. Bad Things lay down that road.

At least it wasn’t damp. And the ceiling wasn’t leaking on him. He’d be okay. He’d been okay the last time too.

He’d been okay because Tony had rescued him.

_ But Tony wasn’t coming this time. _

Nope. No._ Don’t do this. _ He grit his teeth, and focused on his breathing. Tiny tiny breaths.

Focus on the here and now and things he was grateful for.

He wasn’t wet, was one. He wasn’t cold was two. Abby was safe. Momma was safe. He could get a lawyer- even a public defender was better than nothing. The men outside the glass door weren’t armed with machine guns. There was no mad scientist cackling in another room at the end of the hallway. No one was screaming.

He was _ fine. _

_ Breathe god damn it. _

Eventually the panic attack lapsed and he was able to just... sit.

But after a while, he slowly became more and more aware of mild irritations that just... stacked up. The handcuff on his left wrist was ever so slightly too tight, and the angle made it hard for him to hold it comfortably. The wall he was leaning against was cold and was slowly sapping the warmth out of him. And somewhere there was a mother fucking draft so strong he swore he could feel his leg hairs move in the breeze.

He wrapped the bathrobe around him a bit more tightly and discovered that it was a bit... smaller than he remembered. It didn't quite wrap as much around him as much as it used to. Had he really let himself go that much? It was hard to believe it, but scales don’t lie. He ate when he was hungry. He didn’t really go for sweets.

Well, alright. That last bit was an utter lie. He’d absentmindedly gone through a family sized box of Star Crunch in one weekend last month.

It was just... _ Jesus Christ. _ 250? _ Really? _

Was it the sandwiches? He usually had three at lunch. But when he only ate two he was still hungry.

.....

It was probably the pop. He drank too much of it. They offered it for cheap at the shop and he had to make an effort to leave some for the other guys most days. It was well past time he switched to coffee- might even save some money that way. Coffee was cheaper, wasn’t it?

That is- if he would ever get coffee again.

Or pop.

Holy shit, he was so fucking _ screwed _-

Time passed.

At one point he had to call out for a short eternity so someone would come and unhook him so he could pee.

4 officers watched him go, and then they promptly cuffed to the wall again.

_ Bastards. _

Eventually 3 of them came into his cell and glowered at him. Carl wasn’t there- there must have been a shift change.

“You been making trouble, kid?” the tallest one demanded.

“No sir,” he said. This time he didn’t sound threatening, thankfully. Just tired.

“Well, you keep that up,” he said. “And if you don’t cause no trouble we won’t cuff you again when we get back.”

“Yes sir,” he said tiredly.

They uncuffed him from the wall and marched him down corridors again. This time they settled for dragging him along by one of his arms, while the others followed behind, watching him like hawks.

He didn’t bother to ask where he was going. He probably wouldn’t like the answer. So he was dimly surprised when they led him into a small room with a 13 inch flat screen TV in it. (Did they even make TVs that small anymore?) There was also a large and old webcam thing that was screwed into the ceiling with what looked like rusty wood screws. There were rows of folding chairs, and a small podium set up in front of the webcam.

An officer grabbed a chair from one of the back rows, shoved it against the back wall, and then pulled Harley down into it. An officer stood at either side of him, boxing him in. If he wasn’t so damn tired he’d be pissed.

Eventually, a line of men in handcuffs shuffled in and took seats in the chairs. He noted that there were at least 10 of them, and the entire line only got 2 officers to his three.

He wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or if he should consider it a compliment. It could go either way at this stage, honestly.

After a while, one of the deputies turned on the tiny TV.

On it, was a man with a robe sitting behind some sort of fancy desk.

_ They were going to make him watch Judge Judy or something? _ He thought rather hysterically. He could have sworn that there were rules against cruel and unusual punishment.

A man was called up to stand behind the little podium thing, and it didn’t take him long to figure out that the TV was showing a live broadcast and that the judge was taking pleas and handing out bails.

He watched as the men were called up one by one. Almost everyone was being charged with some sort of drug crime, except for one pot-bellied alpha that was in for domestic battery. He raged and screamed a bit when the judge told him that he was granting his mate a restraining order. Officers detached themselves from the walls and had to carry him out.

The officers standing next to him pointedly put hands on his shoulders. As if he was going to go nuts as well.

Everyone had to wait while he was being dealt with, and Harley purposefully kept his gaze firmly on the ground, ignoring the scene in front of him.

It took ages before they started up again, and yet more men shuffled through the process.

Harley went last. He stood at the podium that, compared to the others had seemed a reasonable size. Now it just looked toy-like. An officer stood off to his side, not quite breathing down his neck- but Harley had a feeling that if the man was taller he would have done quite literally that.

“Mr. Keener,” the judge said.

“Yes sir,” Harley said, gazing firmly at the judge’s desk. The last thing he needed was for the fucking judge to join the “he’s a dangerous animal” brigade. Since it was a video call, he had no idea if the judge was an alpha or not. He looked like a beta, but one almost couldn’t tell these days. He didn’t dare accidentally challenge the man or something stupid.

The judge fiddled with some paperwork in front of him.

“You have been charged with ‘Possession of an Explosive Device’,” the judge said.

The judge fiddled with more paperwork, and Harley waited with his heart in his hands.

“Who is representing the state and the defendant in this matter?” he asked.

Wait- what?

That... that was it?

“Good afternoon your honor, I am Marvin Frye, I am here to represent Mr. Keener. My associate, Ms. Cross tried to talk to Mr. Keener at the Union County Jail, but they would not let her in. We’ll feel we can still proceed in any event,” some guy off screen said.

“Melina Vargas here, to represent the state, your honor,” a woman (also off screen) said.

The judge nodded, made some notes, and consulted yet more paperwork.

“And how does Mr. Keener plea?”

“Not guilty,” Mystery man said.

The judge nodded again. “Very well. Anyone have anything to say before we move on to bail?”

“Your honor, if I may- Mr. Keener is currently charged with possession of an explosive device, but we expect further charges to be filed shortly, including at least 2 charges of felony first degree murder, 5 more charges of attempted first degree murder, aggravated arson, as well as operating a meth lab, which comes with a mandatory 180 day sentence- just to name a few. We ask that Mr. Keener be held without bond,” Vargas said.

And now his heart was on the floor.

“Your honor, these charges may never be filed. And Mr. Keener is not only a minor and does _ not _ belong in this court, but he is an outstanding student with no previous arrest record and works 2 jobs to help support his family. Nor does he have a passport.”

The judge frowned at his paperwork.

“The fact of his age concerns me, Mr. Frye. A young man possibly facing such serious charges, as well as such a long time in prison does not fill me with confidence that he will not do something foolish and attempt to flee.”

“I understand that your honor. We submit that Mr. Keener is willing to undergo house arrest at the residence of his legal guardian and wear an ankle monitor.”

“Really? And what do you have to say about this, Mr. Keener?”

_ I think I can get the damn thing off in less than a minute and have it slaved to a cell tower in two. _

“It’s fine with me, sir,” he said as calmly and non threatening as possible. He started to feel... dare he say it? A glimmer of hope?

The judge considered him. Looked at his papers.

“I am assessing a $500,000 cash only bond. You will also be required to wear an ankle monitor should you make bail.”

Harley’s heart sunk again. There was no way that Momma would be able to come up with that kind of money.

“Thank you, your honor,” Mr. Frye said.

They took him back to hell’s fish bowl, and cuffed him to the god damn wall. Again.

“You’ll be processed in a couple of hours,” the deputy said.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna cuff me to the wall again?” Harley demanded, pissed.

“Not after that attitude you showed the judge,” the man growled.

“What? I didn’t-” Harley protested gruffly.

A baton smashed against the wall with a horrible ringing thud, making Harley flinch.

“_Quiet. _ You’re lucky you’re in a nice cell like this one. Keep it up and we’ll put you in solitary,” the alpha snarled.

Harley stared at the floor as the man pointedly lorded over him.

Breathe Harley. Breathe. He could do this. He’d been through worse, remember? And back then he’d been small and defenseless. He’d get through this.

He was bigger now.

And they had batons not cattle prods this time. It wouldn’t even hurt that bad when they hit him.

Right?

The men left.

He swore that the drinking fountain on the toilet existed solely to mock him. He’d kill for a glass of water.

And was this going to be his fucking life now? Handcuffed to whatever fucking thing was closest?

Fffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccccccccccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

His mind did some more screaming, but quieter this time. He was so fucking... tired. And PISSED. And his ribs hurt every time he breathed in too deeply. At least they were better than they were yesterday but god, did it SUCK.

And who the _ fuck _ did he have to shiv to get a god damn sandwich around here? Or crackers. Or fucking something. He was starving.

Some time passed, but not nearly as much as Harley was expecting before a pair of alphas came in.

“Congratulations, you made bail,” one of them said.

Harley blinked at them. “What?”

“Come on, you want out of here or not?” the other asked, and uncuffed him from the wall.

Baffled, suspicious, and relieved, he followed the officers down a series of corridors. He could hear arguing coming from somewhere- that was quickly solved when one of the deputies opened a door and Harley found an upset male beta in a suit arguing with a bored female beta in a jailer’s uniform.

“Mr. Frye, this is a standard condition for bail in this county-” the jailer said patiently.

“Mr. Keener is not a threat to himself or the community-”

“And that is not my call. If you want, you can appeal to the court. But I have my orders. He cannot leave without receiving a suppressant rod.”

Mr. Frye looked like he had eaten a piece of shit while Harley regarded the table behind her with alarm. There was some sort of gnarly injection thing on it that looked dangerously close to what Killian had used a million years ago- and for a split second he had trouble breathing again.

_ Don’t be stupid Harley. They said they were sending you home for house arrest. _

Which meant...

“They's micro-chipping me?” he asked faintly. Ankle bracelets that he could take apart with a screwdriver was one thing. But cutting his fucking arm open to dig something out- it made him grateful they hadn’t actually fed him yet.

And where the fuck was Momma?

“Absolutely not, Mr. Keener,” Mr. Frye said reassuringly.

“Either you get the shot and go home or you go on record as refusing, go into gen pop, and you’ll get it tomorrow while we hold you down,” the jailer said. “He’s too big to _ not _ get suppressants. If he went feral-”

“That is _ incredibly _ sexist,” Mr. Frye protested. “There has not been a _ single _ credible report of an alpha going feral in nearly 100 years- it’s a myth!”

The jailer raised an eyebrow at him. “Hitler had a whole division of them-”

“Being high on meth and PCP is _ not _ the same as going feral-”

Harley eyed the device while the betas bickered. He vaguely remembered hearing about this in health class. Something about a small rod that delivered suppressants for like six months or something without pills. He’d never been on suppressants before- he’d never seen a need for them and at one point they’d barely been able to afford the ones that Momma was on.

And after all, it was just a fucking shot.

Right?

_ Don’t be such a pussy about it. _ He could almost hear Tony mocking him.

“I’ll take the shot,” he said grimly.

“Mr. Keener, I advise you not to act too hastily-”

“I wanna go home,” Harley growled. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help the way it came out.

Mr. Frye pursed his lips. “Very well.”

They had him lean against the wall, and they put it in the upper part of his hamstring where he couldn’t get to it on his own even if he didn’t have fucked up ribs-- the bastards.

And it hurt like a bitch.

They slapped a bandaid on him and then had him sit so they could put the tracker anklet thing on him. As if sitting didn’t suck enough as it was. Now it hurt on the back of his leg too.

_ Wonderful. _

“Just sign here-” a clipboard was produced and Mr. Frye skimmed it before signing it.

“And now you’re free to go,” the beta said, and smiled at them. It was the best “don’t let the door smack you on the way out” smile he’d ever seen.

Harley didn’t care. He just wanted to go _ home. _

“Follow me please, Mr. Keener,” Frye said. “We’re going out the back to avoid reporters.”

Harley nodded. It seemed like a good idea. “Did my momma hire you?” he asked, wondering what she’d sold to afford this. He was also insanely grateful that the man was a bit on the older side, and walked slowly.

“No,” he said.

“You’re a public defender?”

“No.”

Harley paused, and Mr. Frye turned to look at him. “I assure you I’m a friend,” he said, smiling. “I can tell you more later. Right now we should concentrate on getting you back where you belong.”

Harley nodded, and followed him.

They went out an emergency exit and found a GMC Yukon waiting for them. It’s windows were tinted.

Mr. Frye opened the door for him. “We’ll talk again soon. This gentlemen will take care of you,” he said.

Like that wasn’t ominous phrasing. Still- a ride was a ride. He wouldn’t get far on foot. At least it was high off the ground so he didn’t have to climb down to get in the fucking thing.

A burly alpha in a suit sat in the driver’s seat and waited only long enough for him to buckle his seat belt before taking off.

Harley leaned back and concentrated on breathing and keeping the seat belt off his ribs. At least the suspension on this was decent. He opened his mouth to ask a question and found himself lacking the energy to care. So he shut his mouth and let himself relax a bit.

“We’re here, Mr. Keener,” the alpha said. He’d stopped, gotten out and opened Harley’s door for him without him noticing.

Harley blinked, and fought back the urge to stretch. That wouldn’t end well for anyone.

He got out and realized immediately- this was not his house.

It was nowhere near his house.

“Why's we at an airport?” he asked, looking around the tarmac in alarm. It wasn’t even a proper one- just a few strips of concrete and some sort of half assed tower stuck in a corner. There were a few of what looked like hangers at the far side of the property.

“What the hell is this?” an angry dirty blonde beta demanded, marching over. Harley could practically see steam coming out of his ears. “You were supposed to get a _ kid _\- Harley Keener-” he spoke the last bit slowly and loudly like the alpha was retarded.

“I drove who Mr. Frye gave me,” the alpha said, unmoved.

“So who the fuck are you?” the beta demanded.

Harley blinked. “Harley Keener,” he said levelly. “I think there’s been some fuck up- I’m suppose'ta go to my Momma’s- they said I was goin’ inta house arrest?”

The beta frowned at him. “And if I asked you who Tony Stark’s butler is?”

Harley raised an eyebrow. “He ain't got no butler,” he said, confused.

The beta swore viciously.

Harley blinked at him. An idea started to form in his mind. “Unless you mean Jarvis?” he asked cautiously. “But he ain’t a butler- he’s an AI.”

The swearing stopped. The beta eyed him suspiciously. “_You’re _ Harley?” he demanded, clearly flustered. “You’re supposed to be... _ smaller _-”

Harley frowned at him, then looked around. “Is Tony here somewhere?” he asked, as a new and horrible thought occurred to him. “You didn’t leave him _ here _ by himself, did ya? Cuz he _ really _ shouldn’t be unsupervised. At an airport. Where there’s ya know... fuel tanks. And other things that can explode. He gets bored,” Harley said with a mixture of horror and worry.

The beta stared at him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, you ARE Harley- Tony’s gonna flip his shit-”

“So he’s not here?”

“Nope. I’m to take you to him.”

Harley frowned at him. “But... I have house arrest?” he asked distantly.

_ What the hell was going on? _

The beta waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go. Wheels are going up as soon as we get on,” he said and started to walk away.

Unable to think of anything else to do, he gathered his bathrobe around him and followed the man onto a nearby private jet. Surprisingly, he didn’t have to duck when he was inside.

“Sit where you want kid,” the guy said, and Harley carefully sat in a random seat. He sighed, and of course, regretted it. What the fuck was wrong with his life, he wondered. Better yet- what was wrong with _ him _? Getting on a fucking private jet with a god damned stranger.

“You need anything?” the man asked.

Harley blinked up at him, and just... gave up on this day. _ Things _were happening, and he just could not muster the energy to care, let alone fight it.

“I could use some water and a burner phone,” he said.

The dude cocked an eyebrow at him. “A burner phone?”

“Bought with cash and that you don’t mind tossin’,” he said.

The beta looked... amused. “I think I can find something,” he said mysteriously, then knocked on the door to the cockpit. “Take off anytime,” he said, then went into the back.

He came back with a glass of water and a small no-name smartphone that he tossed onto the table in front of Harley.

“Thanks,” he said, and drained the glass while the guy sat down opposite him. The plane started moving.

Harley turned the phone on and after a moment pulled up the text message app.

“You texting your girlfriend?” the man asked. His tone was teasing. “You don’t need a burner phone for that.”

Harley paused with his thumb over an H. Frowned at him. “Can this be traced to anyone?”

“No?”

“Good,” he grunted and went back to typing.

“So... texting threats then?” he asked.

Harley finished typing and sent the text. “I’m wipin’ my computer.”

_ And other things. _

He’d written the Kamikaze Protocol so that if it ever got stolen it would take down as many electronics nearby as possible when someone tried to access it. A sort of final “fuck you” as it were.

With luck, it would fry things like... servers. Or backup hard drives still attached to the network. You know- the kind that might hold things like surveillance footage.

He got a raised eyebrow this time. “From a phone?”

“That’s the plan,” he said, and bit a lip. A heart wrenching minute later he got a return text.

“Kamikaze Protocol Engaged,” his computer texted back.

He sighed with relief and hid a wince.

Again, with the amused look from the beta.

“Lots of porn on there?” he asked.

Harley snorted. “Somethin’ like that,” he said distractedly, setting up a VPN. He needed to call Evan. Give him a heads up to keep his mouth shut and go to his Uncle’s house in Florida until he could wipe the footage from the hospital and see what the fuck the cops knew.

Thankfully Even picked up on the third ring.

“Yo?”

“Pull your chute,” Harley said. “The FBI are pretendin’ to be stupid.”

Evan swore viciously.

“I’m workin’ on it,” he said grimly. “They took my laptop. I’m kamikazing it.”

Evan sighed. “Are you safe?”

Harley eyed the man across from him and the plane in general.

“I ain’t handcuffed to nothin’ no more,” he said dryly. “So I figure I’m doin’ okay.”

The beta across from him was growing more amused by the minute.

“Harley-”

“Shut up and gets a move on before they figure out how to tie they's shoes,” Harley said grimly, and hung up on him.

“That was cute,” the beta said. “You and your friends pretend to be spies often?”

Harley looked at him. Really looked at him.

The beta was leaning back in his chair, idly cleaning his nails with a knife that Harley didn’t remember him having a moment ago. It was a big one too. His boots were combat boots- but not the fancy ones that you saw idiots running around town in while wearing camo just to go to the store. His boots looked worn. Like Barlow’s. Like they’d had to be scrubbed early and often to get all the... “muck” off. His tan cargo pants were also- practical. Easily washed. With lots of pockets.

And his shirt was black. Well. Blackish. It was a well worn and a practical Henley- that also was tight enough to show off his muscles. He was well built for someone his size- clearly he worked out, but he wasn’t pointlessly bulky like most of the meatheads he knew.

“You SHIELD?” he asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. If Tony had taught him anything, it was that SHIELD were not to be trusted further than you could throw them.

The beta blinked at him. “Used to be,” he said mildly.

Harley sniffed and relaxed a bit. “Cuz if you tase me or whatever, you’s gonna have to drag my fat ass offa this plane and _ no-one’s _ gonna have a good day after that.”

The beta’s face twitched, fighting a smile. Harley could feel him staring at him as he fiddled with the phone, changing it’s settings again. The last thing he needed was for the same number to kill his laptop, call Evan AND call his Momma.

She didn’t pick up the phone. Harley rubbed his face as he listened to the little voice report that her mailbox was full. He hung up.

_ God damn it. _

Maybe he should try again later?

“You want to tell me what happened?” the beta asked.

Harley frowned at the phone, and debated sending a text.

“I don’t talk to henchmen,” he said almost absently, then paused. “Full offense,” he added. “If you wanted entertainment you shoulda picked different at the career fair.”

There was silence. Harley glanced up to see that the man looked a bit shocked.

“Wow. Okay. Big talk considering I’m the armed one,” he said idly.

Harley snorted. “I weigh 250,” he said shortly. “You’ll just fuck up your back.”

That got a somewhat wheezing chuckle. “Noted,” he said dryly. The man then pulled his own phone out and proceeded to ignore him.

Harley sent Momma a text. “Safe. Love you. Kiss girls for me. -H.”

Good. Now to see if he could help cover the tracks for Evan.

An hour later the speakers in the jet squeaked on.

“_Harley James Keener _\- stop hacking the god damn FBI!” Tony’s voice rang out.

Harley jumped, and winced, holding his ribs. The beta nearly fell out of his chair.

“Tony?” he asked in disbelief.

“Stop it!”

“But I ain’t!”

“Because if _ you’re _ hacking the FBI, _ I _ can’t hack the FBI-”

“I ain’t hacking no FBI!” Harley protested.

“Well you’re doing _ something _ because the fucking FBI servers for the entire northeast coast are down. And don’t think I can’t see the VPN internet traffic on the wifi on my own fucking jet. So _ knock it off_.”

Harley blinked. Checked his email.

A simple email with the subject line of “Bonzai!” was in the email box of a throwaway account.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Are they really down?”

“YES!”

“Well, someone’s gonna get fired,” he said faintly. “I didn’t think they’d be _ that _ stupid-”

“Harley?!” Tony demanded, clearly exasperated.

“The bastards musta plugged my laptop into their fuckin’ network,” Harley said. “It kamikazed. The idiots musta been usin’ my modified teamviewer- _ holy shit _-”

There was a moment of silence.

“So you just took down the FBI... by _ accident _?” Tony demanded skeptically.

“It’s suppos'ta kill anything connected to the network it gets connected to- full hard drive wipe and then brickin’ it if it can.”

“What- why on earth-”

“In case it got stolen! I wrote it to kill Xboxes,” Harley complained. “I thought it would take out the police station at worst-” he grumbled.

“Where the _ hell _ did you even get such an idea-”

“I based it offa that thing you did to track and disable the Ten Rings computers,” Harley complained. “So if anythin’, it’s kinda _ your _ fault-”

“_What did you just say?” _

Harley backpedaled. “I mean- it’s the FBI's fault- who the _ hell _ plugs an unknown laptop straight into they’s system? What if I was like... evil or somethin’-”

“Is this the laptop with the North Korean secrets on it?” Tony asked innocently. “Is that the same laptop that we’re talking about right now?”

Harley froze. “I don’t know nothin’ about no centrifuges,” he lied horribly.

From across the way, the beta looked at him with horror.

“I didn’t say anything about nuclear secrets Harley,” Tony said sweetly. “But it’s nice for you to confirm it.”

Harley winced and inwardly cursed. See? This is _ exactly _why he kept his fucking mouth shut earlier.

“So whoever the hell is there with him- you need to take his fucking laptop away- right now.”

“He doesn't have a laptop! He’s got a burner phone!” Clint protested.

“I’s just playin’ candy crush!” Harley protested. Which was true. It’d been tragically easy to get into the Hospital’s systems and (very very carefully) erase footage from the day of the accident. He didn’t want someone’s life support to be turned off or something-

And he’d been playing candy crush for the last 20 minutes.

“Yes, well- congratulations kid. You’re officially the first kid that I have ever grounded.”

Harley scowled at the ceiling. “But it ain’t my fault!” he protested.

“Consider your boredom as payment for the ‘oops I fucked up’ speech I’m probably going to have to give Fury later,” Tony said angrily. “It’ll also keep you from tacking on any _ more _ terrorism charges or whatever in the THREE HOURS it was supposed to take to get you from _ jail _ \- to _ here _ . So yes, you’re grounded, if for nothing else than for national security and the sake of my sanity. Clint- _ take the phone_.”

The beta- Clint- held out an expectant hand. “Come on kid. You heard the boss. Don’t make me throw out my back.”

Harley grumbled but handed it over.

“I got it,” Clint announced.

“Good. We’ll talk when you get here,” Tony said ominously, and hung up.

Harley pointedly did _ not _ sulk for the rest of the trip. He was 17 after all, and 17 year olds didn’t sulk.

They landed at a tiny airport in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully another large SUV- a Range Rover this time- was waiting for them at the edge of the tarmac. Clint and Harley climbed in the back and off they went. It took a solid 45 minutes to get to the Tower, and by then Harley was just... done. He didn’t care if Killian himself rose from the grave- he was going to fucking crash on a god damned couch somewhere, and do his level best to pass out. Tony could yell at him while he was unconscious and play the footage back for him later.

Clint watched him with open concern as Harley staggered into the elevator in the parking garage.

“Dude- are you gonna pass out?” Clint asked. “You don’t look so hot.”

“If I do just leave me,” Harley grunted. “If I sit down I’m not gonna be able to get up again.”

Clint snorted. “I’m not leaving you in an elevator. Tony would yell at me,” Clint said. “We have henchmen for stuff like moving bodies. I’ll just call them.”

Harley grunted, and leaned heavily against the elevator wall.

“Can I just say what a joy it is to see you again, Worshipful Master?” Jarvis said from a speaker in the ceiling.

“You still alive you fucking disaster?” Harley grunted, surprised. “He ever get around to commentin’ your code?”

“Joyfully, I can report that I am fully functional, and no, Worshipful Master, he did not.”

Harley sighed. “You can call me Supreme Leader. Worshipful Master makes me sound like a dick.”

“Of course Supreme Leader,” Jarvis all but cooed.

“Worshipful Master?” Clint asked in disbelief.

Harley waved a hand vaguely. “I was like 12. And Jarvis?”

“Yes Supreme Leader?”

“Next time Tony wakes up, make his alarm tone Russian Roulette by Red Velvet, full volume, override code ‘what the fuck did you just say about me you little bitch’.”

There was a pause. “Override code accepted. New alarm protocol set.”

Harley snickered.

“What the hell did you just do?” Clint demanded.

“Get Tony to comment an' debug his fuckin' code for once. Jarvis don’t deserve this shit. Plus it’s K-pop. Tony will HATE it. God knows I do. It’s all Abby will listen to,” Harley bitched.

“Jesus Christ... who the fuck _ are _ you?”

“No one.”

Thankfully the door to the elevator opened to reveal a furious Tony waiting for them.

“What the hell happ_\- Harley_?” Tony sputtered to a stop. “What the _fuck_-”

“Can I sit down please?” Harley asked. “You can yell at me, I swear. I just... need to sit.” Harley pleaded.

“Oh my god- come on-” Tony grabbed him by an elbow and guided him to a bar stool at a kitchen island.

Harley sat down heavily.

“Harley- what- are you okay? Clint- what the hell-”

Clint shrugged. “I think he’s crashing. When’s the last time you ate, Little John?”

Harley glared at him. “I dunno. What day is it?” he asked tiredly.

“It’s Monday,” Tony said.

“Yesterday mornin’?” Harley guessed.

“Clint- get him something- and... is that _ blood _ in your hair?” Tony demanded, as he tugged at Harley’s hair, outraged. “What the _ hell_, Harley?”

“It ain’t my fault,” Harley whined.

“What _ happened_?” Tony demanded.

“I dunno! I woke up in the hospital and ran for it. The FBI kicked down my door the day after, then they handcuffed me to a god damn wall for fuckin’ ever, then I got on a plane and came here,” Harley complained.

“Why were you in the hospital?”

Harley studied the floor. “House blew up,” he grumbled quietly. “I think I got blown clear.”

“_Your _ house?” Tony sputtered.

“No!”

“Please tell me that you did _ not _ try to build a nuclear reactor-” Tony demanded.

“What? Of course not!” Harley sputtered. “Do it look like I can get uranium! I can’t even get palladium!”

“Then _ what _ happened?”

“I dunno! I- I don’t remember-” Harley protested.

Tony sighed, and put a hand under Harley’s chin, making him look at him.

“Look at me. Are you okay?”

“I... I gotta headache,” Harley said quietly.

“And broken ribs,” Clint added.

Harley snapped a glaring growl at him, but the beta ignored him. “He’s been in pain since I picked him up.”

“Jesus Christ, Harl,” Tony complained, and before Harley could draw away or protest, Tony wrapped him up in a hug.

Harley froze. “Tony?” he asked, panicking a little.

“We’re gonna get you something to eat, okay? Then we’ll go to Med Bay and get you the good stuff. And while you’re high you can tell me what the hell you’ve been eating to get so fucking big,” Tony said quietly.

“Tony-” Harley whined, uncertain.

“Shut up kid,” Tony growled. “I hug now. Get over it.”

Harley huffed, then winced as it caused a sharp pain in his side. He whined a bit.

“Shh...” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Calm down. You’re all wound up. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just like old times, right? Everything’s going to be fine.”

“It ain’t fine. They's gonna charge me-” Harley protested quietly.

“And I literally have hundreds of lawyers prepared to bury them alive in paperwork, you understand? That courthouse isn’t going to know what hit them,” Tony vowed. “Worse case, I have an island that’s in the waters of a non-extradition country. You can go live in a beach house for 6 months while I blackmail some Senators.”

“Tony-”

“I said _ hush _ ,” Tony ordered. “When have I _ ever _ not come through, huh? You were fine then, and you’ll be fine now. Now fucking hug me back, it’s getting awkward here.”

“God damn old man,” Harley grumbled, but complied, and just... rested his head on Tony’s shoulder for a bit. God. He couldn’t remember the last time someone other than the girls hugged him. It was... nice.

“There we go. Relax. It was scary, right? But it’s over and you’re safe. I got you kid.”

“Tony-”

“I said _ hush_,” Tony scolded, and ran his fingers through Harley’s hair.

Harley shivered as something he couldn’t name relaxed inside him for the first time in- well- forever.

“That’s it. I got you,” Tony murmured. “Shh...”

Tony stood there for a long moment, just holding him.

“You feeling better sweetheart?” Tony asked quietly.

Harley grumbled. He wasn’t a pup, damnit.

“_TONY! _” an alpha (Harley could tell just from the goddamn tone) barked from somewhere behind him.

_ Ah fuck. _

Tony let go of him, but only a little. “Steve? I thought you were dealing with an idiot with a glue gun-” he said, surprised.

“We finished already. It was an idiot with a glue gun,” Steve rumbled behind him, clearly annoyed, and if Harley was any judge, about a minute from losing his shit. “Get over here. NOW.”

Clearly baffled and annoyed, Tony finally (FINALLY) let go of Harley, so he could turn around and see who was making a fuss. It was an alpha, alright. A big one- and he looked like the type who spent more time at the gym than anywhere else.

A jealous meathead. Wonderful. He so did not have the energy for this shit right now...

Tony wandered over to him. “What on earth is _ wrong _ with you-” he squawked a bit as the meathead alpha angrily shoved Tony behind him and started stalking towards Harley.

_ Ah, heeellll no. _

Harley stood up. All the way up, and met the idiot halfway. He loomed expertly over the meathead and growled in warning.

“Who the fuck-” Meathead demanded.

The idiot appeared to be brave, Harley would give him that.

“_You don’t treat my Tony that way _-” Harley interrupted with a vicious snarl, and pressed closer.

The alpha’s eyes grew wide. Stared at him.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Meathead demanded.

“Whoa- whoa- everyone take a breath- come on Steve-” someone that wasn’t Tony or Clint said from somewhere on the edge of the group.

“Come on. Don’t be stupid Steve-” Clint cajoled. “Harley- calm the fuck down already man-”

Harley ignored them. “I. Said. You don’t TOUCH. _ MY _ Tony like that, you _ goddamn _ meathead-” he snarled, slowly, leaning closer.

“Harley- sweetheart- stop,” Tony pleaded.

Harley blinked. And everything went black.

**************************

Clint had been to several shit shows in his time. Hell, he’d even _ organized _ shit shows once or twice.

But this- this was on a whole ‘nother level. Sam was hovering just barely out of touching range, trying to talk some sense into the idiots, while also trying to avoid being accidentally squashed in the coming Deathmatch of Giants. Meanwhile Tony seemed to be slowly realizing that he’d seriously fucked up somewhere, and was bouncing between exasperation and fear.

And then the bigger idiot went full Ye-Haw and again claimed that Tony was HIS-

Steve took him down. The kid hit his head on the kitchen island on the way down with a sickening crack, and then Steve had a knee in the kid’s back, twisting one of his arms up-

Sam was shouting now, and Tony- he’d never seen such a murderous/panicked look in the omega’s eyes before. He started to charge over, and Clint quickly wrestled him to the ground as gently as possible before he did something even more stupid- like attacking Steve.

For a couple of minutes there was just sheer noise and chaos as Tony screamed incoherently in murderous rage, while trying to throw him off, and Steve shouted at Sam, who was shouting back about overreacting- and something about getting off him so he could at least see if the “poor bastard was still alive”.

Which only made Tony buck and scream harder.

“_WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON _ ?” Bucky bellowed from the elevator, which made everyone go silent. Except for Tony, who was now screaming curses about how Steve would _ never _ sleep in their bed again-

“Sit on Steve!” both Clint and Sam chorused back.

“Absolutely not,” Steve growled at him. “Buck- don’t-” he said as Bucky murder strutted over.

Bucky ignored him, grabbed the protesting and angry Steve by the back of his shirt and threw him across the room, sending him crashing into the back of the sofa so hard he nearly knocked it over.

Steve laid on his belly there for a minute, shouting variations on “What the _ fuck _ Bucky-” and then Bucky literally sat on him.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on-” Bucky said, clearly pissed. “But your omega is clearly pissed at you. So you are gonna LAY HERE. And _ stop _ whatever it was you were doing to upset him, until he calms down.” Bucky growled, shoving Steve’s face into the carpet with a large hand.

Steve snarled at him, but Bucky ignored it. “I’ve got him,” he said.

“Let GO of me!” Tony shouted.

“Take a breath, and calm down and I’ll let go,” Clint said. “Is he alive, Sam?”

“He’s breathing,” Sam reported. “Heart rate is strong. I think he’s just knocked out-”

“You hear that? He’s alive,” Clint said quietly into Tony’s ear. “He survived an explosion, he’ll survive this. You can’t help if you’re hysterical. Take a breath.”

Harley groaned.

“Hey dude. You with me?” Sam asked, shining a light into the guy’s eyes.

“You see that? He’ll be fine. Now go reassure your kid,” Clint said, and got off of him.

Tony took a breath, and scrambled over to Harley.

“Harley? Can you hear me?” Tony pleaded. “Answer me baby-”

Steve snarled a bit into the carpet, and Bucky snarled back, and punched him squarely in the shoulder blade. “QUIET.”

Clint watched for a moment as Tony fussed over the kid. The elevator opened again, and several nurses and a doctor with a stretcher spilled out and beelined over. Clint relaxed a bit. The kid was in good hands now. He ambled over to Steve the Idiot, and casually sat on the carpet next to him.

“Good job, pack leader,” Clint said sarcastically. “You feel all big and bad now that you nearly straight up murdered a child?”

Both Bucky and Steve stilled.

“What?” Steve demanded, his voice still muffled in the carpet.

“Well, I mean, you did smash his head into the counter. Good job on that. I mean, the kid was unarmed and untrained so... really. _ Great job _. A+ job on de-escalation there. Couldn’t have done it better myself. ”

“What do you mean, kid?” Bucky demanded.

“He’s 17, and I spent the better part of last night and this morning waiting at an airport _ specifically _ so that I could bring the kid here to the tower. You know. Where it’s _ safe _. Tony asked me to,” Clint said idly. “The kid’s had a pretty shit week if you ask me. Tony was just trying to make him feel better with a hug.”

“I mean- what’s the other explanation? That Tony would invite a strange alpha up to the common floor for some sneaky cuddles? You know- in broad daylight. On the busiest floor. Right in front of me? But that’s just - you know- _ crazy_.” Clint chuckled dismissively. “Only a stupid, territorial, jealous, and _ brain damaged _ alpha would EVER think of that. And we don’t have any of those in our pack, _ DO WE STEVE _?” Clint growled pointedly.

Bucky’s eyes were growing wider by the second.

“STEVE- you fucking god damn idiot!” he snarled and punched Steve again, who grunted at the impact.

Steve laid there for a moment. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” he asked despairingly into the carpet.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Clint said reasonably. “The kid only did get nearly exploded a couple of days ago, and has some broken ribs. And then he was arrested and chained to a wall for like... at least all of last night,” Clint said idly, picking at his nails. “And Tony specifically told me that if we couldn’t bail him out, we were to break him out of jail and tell SHIELD- _ and I quote _: ‘suck his dick’.”

He sniffed thoughtfully while Bucky swore.

“I recommend flowers. When was the last time you got him roses?” Clint suggested. “Being on your knees probably wouldn’t hurt either,” he said, and watched as the kid was wheeled into the elevator on a stretcher. “Just a thought. I’ll let you know when Tony doesn’t want to actually murder you anymore.”

He got up and joined the group in the elevator while Bucky threatened to strangle Steve “for being such a goddamned knothead,” and started to go on about how “Your Ma didn’t raise you to be like this, you fucking MORON.”

At least the day hadn’t been totally boring, Clint thought idly as the doors closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Poor Harley. He not only found every single one of Steve's buttons he straight up mashed them down within like 5 seconds of meeting them. Pray harder y'all. 
> 
> Never thought I’d say this, but I’d like to give a shout out to Justin Beiber. For being stupid enough to be arrested and famous enough that they filmed his bond hearing and put it on youtube. It was very helpful. 
> 
> So... if I’m wrong with all the legal stuff, I’m blaming Google. And Law and Order.
> 
> Also, I think a quick explanation of my AU’s general timeline is warranted here. We got off the bus that is the Marvel Movie Universe somewhere right in the middle of Iron Man 3. (Steve still met Sam while jogging, and Sam found himself swept along in hunting down a few Hydra cells in the US/Europe before they found Bucky.)
> 
> So if you’re like “Wait a gosh darn minute- he’s remembering that wrong- that’s not how Iron Man 3 WENT”. You’re right. It’s not. But that’s how it is in my AU. (It’s why Tony still has his arc-reactor, among other things). 
> 
> So no ultron, no CA: Winter Soldier (Bucky was found in a basement, remember?). No Civil War. Just... a bunch of superheros hanging out in a tower with Jarvis (right where he belongs). 
> 
> And Thanos can go suck it. It ain’t happening to my precious cinnamon rolls. Uh uh. Not here. NOT EVER. This is a safe space.
> 
> And in case you missed, the Villain of the Day that Steve and Bucky were fighting off-screen was good old Paste Pot Pete. Now how's that for blast from the past?


	43. Alphas and Omegas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags:  
Platonic cuddling

Steve laid on the floor with Bucky literally sitting on his back. It’d been several minutes since everyone had left and Bucky had _ finally _ ran out of steam and stopped yelling at him.

“Can I get up now?” Steve growled.

“No. You’re in time out,” Bucky said firmly.

Steve blinked. “I’m in a _ what _?”

“You’re not supposed to spank pups anymore. You put them in time out. Darcy got me this book-”

Steve snarled. “I am NOT a PUP!”

Bucky ignored him. “According to the book, it’s a minute per how old they are. So... you’ve got like... 95 minutes left.”

Steve sputtered. “I am not lying on this floor for an hour and a half! And I’m not 100!” he protested.

Bucky snorted. “You're right. Keep it up and you’ll be here for two,” he said. Steve heard the sounds of Candy Crush.

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?” he demanded.

“Yep,” Bucky said, popping the P.

Steve groaned in frustration, and rested his face against the carpet. He knew this mood- when he felt like it, Bucky was even more stubborn than he was. Unless he was prepared to commit some serious violence, it looked like he was doomed to actually lay here for either 95 minutes or until Bucky got bored.

Time passed.

“Can I get up _ now _ ?” Steve complained. He did _ not _whine.

“No,” Bucky said calmly, and fiddled with his phone.

Steve sighed. “Can you at least tell me what the _ hell _ is that noise?” he demanded.

Bucky considered him. “You haven’t reached the conveyor belt section yet?” he asked. “I’ve been getting them for like the last 10 levels. That and the fudge things,” he grumbled. “I’ll be damned if I pay for more lollipop hammers though.”

“I’m stuck in the Jelly Jungle,” Steve complained into the carpet.

“So log in, spin the wheel, and do that for a few days until you restock your supplies and try the level again,” Bucky said patiently. “You’re supposed to be the greatest strategist of all time or some shit, aren’t you?” he teased.

“And I’m telling you it’s _ rigged _-” Steve grumbled. “That jelly can kiss my fucking ass-” he complained.

The elevator opened, and Darcy and Peter spilled out.

“Bucky? Oh my god- are you okay?” Darcy asked.

Bucky swore, and scrambled to his feet, with Steve close behind.

“Hey- hey. It’s fine. Come here,” Bucky held Darcy close. “Shhh... don’t stress yourself, doll.”

“Dad?” Peter asked uncertain, and slightly panicky. “Where’s Tony?"

“Come here-,” Steve soothed, arms wide. Peter hastily went for a hug. Steve noticed the boy was shaking a bit.

“Tony’s fine,” Steve said. “Everyone’s fine-”

“But Jarvis was upset,” Peter protested. “I’ve _ never _heard him sound like that-”

“We had a... visitor. There was an incident,” Steve said. “But you’re safe. Everyone’s safe.”

“_ James Buchanan Barnes _ , the next time you’re fine, you TELL me!” Darcy scolded sharply, and smacked him on the arm. “Peter and I were scared to _ death _\- was it an intruder? Jarvis wouldn’t tell us, and you took off like a fucking scalded cat when he called for you-”

“It wasn’t an intruder,” Steve said quickly. “Tony invited a guest up, and there was um...”

“A misunderstanding,” Bucky filled in. “That’s all. Tony and Sam are down with ‘em in MedBay right now. But no-one’s hurt. Just the guest.”

“I lost my temper a bit,” Steve said. “But he should be fine.”

“Is that why Bucky was sitting on you?” Peter asked.

Steve sighed regretfully. “Yes. But I’m not angry anymore,” he said, and gave Peter a careful squeeze. “You’re safe. It’s okay. If there’d been an actual intruder Bucky would have taken you two to a safe room first.”

“I can help with an intruder!” Peter protested.

“Not right now you can’t,” Steve said darkly. “You’re sick, remember?”

“But I still have my strength-” Peter protested.

“And bones that will break when you use it,” Steve said. “_ Absolutely not _. Not unless your life is in danger and you can’t run away.”

Steve sighed. He needed to distract the little omega- he’d stopped trembling, but he still scented of stress. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked.

“I had lunch with Darcy,” Peter said.

“And that was?” Steve prompted.

“A couple of hours ago,” Darcy said.

“Then it’s time for a snack then. You want me to make you a shake? I think I still have some marshmallow fluff left.”

That got his attention. “Can I have it with peanut butter too?” Peter asked.

“Sure- we’ll go make it in the penthouse. You want to eat your shake and sit with me for a while? Watch some TV?” Steve asked.

Peter glanced at Darcy, but she was practically merging with Bucky as he rumbled for her.

“Um... yeah-” Peter said, eyeing the pair uncomfortably.

“Come with me. We’re going to take the stairs. I want to show you something,” Steve said and escorted the boy to the emergency exit.

“You know about the keypads, right?” Steve said when they were in the stairwell.

“Yeah. I use my hand to open the door to my room.”

“You can also open a door that’s not a personal floor,” Steve said. “So if you can’t make it to a safe room, you can go to an empty floor and hide there.”

“There’s empty floors?” Peter asked.

“Sure. When Tony first built the place he didn’t intend for it to house us all. We came together after the Battle of New York,” Steve said. “Bruce and I moved in until we could find a new place- my old one was destroyed in the Battle, and Bruce-” Steve hesitated. “He had his own reasons for staying. It was supposed to be temporary. But then Clint’s place in Bed Stuy burned down, and one of Natasha's cover’s got blown... and we just sorta... took over the place.”

They reached the landing with the last door- the door to the penthouse.

“So, for security, only the owner of the suite can open their door from the stairwell. That and authorized guests,” he said, and pushed a long series of buttons on the keypad above the door lock. The light above the keypad went from red to yellow. “Give me your hand, son,” he said gently.

Peter gave him his hand, clearly confused, and Steve gently pressed his palm to the keypad. The light turned from yellow to green. And the door popped open.

Peter stared. “But- I’m not supposed to come up here without an invitation. Nat said-” he protested halfheartedly.

“And now you have an open invitation,” Steve said. “Now these-” he gestured to the locks, “are independent of Jarvis. Even he goes down. Even if the power is cut, these will work. And the penthouse is the most secure spot in the tower. The other floors are fine- they’ve been upgraded. But this was reinforced when they first did the building, and then they reinforced it again after Loki. Come on. I’ll make you a shake.”

Peter trailed after him, a little wide eyed, and Steve let him be.

“Marshmallow fluff and peanut butter, was it?” Steve asked, digging into his protein powders.

“And chocolate?” Peter asked hopefully from a nearby bar stool.

Steve smiled indulgently at his cupboard, and picked out a ‘Serious Mass’ chocolate one. “Sure,” he said. The directions only called for two scoops, but he put in three. Several generous scoops of chocolate ice cream, some glugs of heavy cream, heaping spoonfuls of fluff and peanut butter- and a sneaky scoop of vitamin powder.

He paused, glanced at the skinny teenager- who was poking at his phone - and added another half scoop of the vitamin powder.

Tony hated watching him make his shakes. He always complained he’d gain 10 pounds and get some sort of horrible artery disease just by looking at them. But Peter practically vibrated in his chair and made half joking grabby hands as Steve handed over the nearly overflowing oversized tumbler. He watched, amused, as Peter sucked the straw so hard his eyes crossed.

“Remember to breathe, son,” Steve said, fighting back a smile and losing.

“But it’s _ so good _,” Peter whined when he finally stopped for air.

“You want to watch a baking show with me?” Steve asked.

Peter paused. “Shouldn’t you be down in the med bay with Tony?” he asked, frowning.

Steve sighed, and shook his head. “Tony is... a little angry at me right now. I’m giving him some time to cool off. Clint’s gonna text me when he doesn’t want to rip my head off anymore.”

Peter shrugged. “I guess, so long as it’s not the Zumbo one. All the colors and stupid camera shake makes me dizzy.”

“I like the British one,” Steve said, sitting on the sofa. He pressed a button on the side that made the end section recline and pop the footrest up, and settled back with a sigh. He frowned when he saw that Peter was all the way on the other end of the sofa.

“How many times do I need to tell you pup, your place is over here by me?” Steve said with mock seriousness. “Get over here.” He patted the bit of sofa next to him.

Peter flushed a bit, but scooted over. As soon as the child was within arms reach, Steve put an arm around his waist and pulled him flush against him. Peter squeaked a bit, but didn’t drop his cup.

“There we go,” Steve said, and carefully arranged Peter’s blanket so that he was properly covered.

“Daad,” Peter whined.

“Hush. Jarvis, wherever I left off on the British baking show please,” Steve said, and laid an arm down Peter’s back, nestling the small omega against him.

Peter grumbled a bit, but sipped his drink and soon had his face buried in Steve’s chest.

“How are you so _ warm _?” Peter complained. “It’s not fair.”

“Serum,” Steve said absently as the contestants descended on the white tent. He pulled the little omega a bit closer and leaned his head against Peter’s hair, inhaling his scent. The cinnamon reminded him of Tony, and the gentle undertones of a mostly happy omega was soothing.

He wondered if it was possible for a male omega to not be a little bit grumpy about being happy, then instantly dismissed it. The inherent grumpiness was part of the charm, really.

He sighed a bit.

He’d really fucked up today. What the _ hell _ had gotten into him?

It’d just been Tony.

Hugging an alpha.

An alpha that was bigger than him.

A surge of... anger hit him again, and he quickly stomped on it. What the hell? This wasn’t _ like him _...

A sudden unbidden memory floated to the surface. A dance. Somewhere. Before Bucky had enlisted. Right before? A week? Maybe a month? A girl... had asked him to dance. Sarah, wasn’t it? Sarah... didn’t matter. She was a nice girl- a _ good _ omega, smelled of roses? Flowers? Whatever- it had made his nose itch.

He’d been so happy just for her attention- she asked all about him. And about Buck of course, but they’d been joined at the hip for years so it was hard to talk about himself without including him in all his stories.

Then he’d gone to get her a drink- punch maybe (memories from before the serum were always a little hazy. Dream like. So unlike his memories after).

And he came back... to find her all over a late arriving Bucky.

He pressed his lips together. Oh, that’d been a hard pill to swallow. But he’d kept his mouth shut. Buck had been... ‘concerned’ about him for a while. And he didn’t want his fucking pity on top of everything else. Besides, he knew the girl wouldn’t last more than a week anyway. They never did.

The girl, it turned out, hadn’t been quite as good of an omega that her parents had hoped for, but it didn’t matter- Bucky had never been one to settle down and he’d enlisted not soon after, leaving both him (and the omega) behind.

If he remembered right Buck hadn’t even said goodbye to her. So much for her strategy.

Of course, now that he knew his friend had been Fated (Is Fated?) it made a weird sorta sense why none of them had lasted.

What the fuck had been her name?

Sarah... C...

Sarah Cunningham?

That didn’t sound right...

Maybe it wasn’t Sarah.

Cathy?

“Dad?” Peter asked softly.

Steve made an effort to unclench his jaw.

“Hmm?” he asked, trying to go for absent minded.

“Do... do we need to watch something else?” Peter asked quietly. Gently.

Steve blinked. The contestants were making something. He’d lost track.

“What?”

“I mean- I know they’re massacring that pumpkin pie right now, but they’re British. They don’t know any better- or... or something?” Peter said hesitantly. “I think they’re trying really hard.”

Steve blinked again. A contestant was on and talking about how she was making a “Halloween pie” with chocolate and peanut butter. In a pumpkin pie. With a thick pastry crust they normally used for tarts on the show.

He frowned at the screen. What the _ fuck-? _

“It’s just... you smell... sad?” Peter said. “And... mad? It’s just pie. And it’s not like we’re the ones who have to eat it,” he said sincerely.

_ Oh, Peter- _he thought fondly and shook away the dregs of the memory. He took a breath and hugged the omega a bit.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m not upset about the pies. I just... I really messed up today. Your Ma is going to skin me alive,” he said resignedly.

Peter considered him. “What happened?” he asked.

Steve pressed his lips together again. “Went to pin him and knocked his head against the island by accident.”

Peter’s eyes grew wide. “You hurt Tony?” he asked, his tone panicked.

“What? No- NO baby. I told you- Tony’s fine. _ The guest _ . I knocked _ him _ silly. He...” Steve sighed. “Doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

Peter relaxed considerably. “Did you tell him you’re sorry?”

Steve snorted. “Bucky was sitting on me honey. And Tony was in no mood-”

“No. _ The guest. _ Did you tell him you’re sorry?”

For a second, Steve froze.

Apologize? To the alpha?

Oof. That made him... feel things. Unpleasant things. He had challenged him. In his own fucking NEST. Claimed Tony. _ Growled _ at him. Like _ he _ was top alpha, not Steve.

_ Arrogant ballsy bastard. _

But... then again he was only a boy.

Technically.

_ Barely. _

He’d fought alongside quite a few soldiers that were that age during the war in France. The resistance had been practically rife with those who were barely too young to enlist. Just how much of a pup was a 17 year old _ exactly _ anyway?

“Dad?” Peter demanded.

“What?”

“Did you tell him you’re sorry?”

“No.”

“Dad!” Peter scolded him, rearing back in horror. “You can’t just... hurt a... a... _ civilian _ like that and not say you’re sorry!”

And that was a punch in the gut. The child was right.

_ He was better than this, god damn it. _

He sighed. “I... I know baby. I know. I’ll... I’ll apologize when he’s feeling a bit better. Okay?”

Apparently mollified, Peter laid back against Steve.

They watched as atrocities were visited upon a defenseless key lime pie.

“He likes the donuts from 7-11,” Peter said suddenly.

Steve blinked down at him. “Hmm?”

Peter hesitated. “To- I mean... Ma?” Peter offered shyly. “He... he likes the chocolate ones. I brought some day-old ones in for a snack when we were in the lab, and he ate them all while I was busy. Then he denied it. He said donuts were too fattening. Said I must have eaten them and forgotten. But he had chocolate in his beard.”

Steve chuckled.

“Later he asked me if I remembered where I got them and I told him he must have remembered wrong because I didn’t bring any donuts in that day. Because I hadn’t eaten any. So, I must have forgotten them at home.”

Steve laughed. “Are you serious?”

Peter giggled- a sound that was like music to Steve’s ears. “He was mad for like two days about it. But he couldn’t ask me again without admitting he’d eaten them.”

Steve laughed, “Oh my clever little omegas,” he mused. “What on earth am I going to do? I’m outnumbered!” he complained loudly, and dragged a squeaking Peter into his lap. His large alpha hands (ever so gently) sought out Peter’s sides- and the boy’s squeaks of protest quickly turned into shrieks of laughter as Steve tickled him.

A few minutes of exploration revealed the boy to be ticklish in exactly the same spots that Tony was- and they wrestled on the couch for a bit (which was difficult because Steve had to be careful to stay clear of the boy’s belly and the omega was a squirmy monster) until Steve judged he’d didn’t like the boy’s breathing and pinned him. He rumbled to quiet him down.

“Shhh... take a breath. Don’t make yourself sick baby,” Steve murmured in his ear, while Peter panted face down beneath him. “I stopped.”

“You’re heavy,” Peter bitched halfheartedly into the sofa. “And you _ cheat _-”

“Hmmm,” Steve agreed, and focused on projecting _ calm, safe, home _.

Eventually Peter gave a small shuddering sigh and relaxed properly.

“Good boy,” Steve rumbled softly, and gently kissed his hair, scenting him. God, he smelled so much like Tony. He’d never met another omega that smelled of bakeries and cinnamon like Tony did, except for Peter. Most omegas smelled like fruit or flowers. But not his omegas. They just had to be... what was the word?

Extra?

Yes. That was it. They were just ‘extra’ like that.

He took one last big inhale and was just about to get off so they would go back to sitting on the couch- when Peter sighed contentedly and lazily bared his neck.

Steve froze right down to his lungs. He desperately reviewed the last few minutes in his head- had he touched Peter inappropriately? He discarded the idea immediately. He’d been careful to keep his rumbles pup friendly. At least, he would have sworn on a stack of bibles that he had. And his kiss and scenting had been WELL above the ears- far away from Peter’s delicate scent glands.

Right?

Maybe... maybe Peter didn’t know that the only alphas that omegas bared their throats to was their mates? He was a new omega after all- had anyone sat down and explained the pack rules for omegas to him? Had Tony or Natasha not gotten around to it yet?

Steve prayed the last one was it, and scrambled to get off the pup. He needed to be firm about this- if Peter did this to Sam... or worse another unmated alpha not from the pack- there could be... misunderstandings. Not that _ Sam _ would... would _ ever _\- but-

He had a sudden flash of the very large, very aggressive alpha that was currently in the Med Bay. Who was Tony’s guest... and who no one had said how long he would be staying... who might misread an awkward omega’s cues... Like say... Peter’s.

_ ABSOLUTELY NOT. _ He was going to nip this in the bud _ right here, right now. _

“_Omega, _” he snapped, a little more forcefully than he’d meant to.

Now Peter froze. “Dad?” he asked. He sounded a little bit frightened.

“Sit up. Right now.”

Peter (always such a good boy) obeyed quickly. “What’s wrong?” he sounded alarmed.

Steve gathered him up and carefully sat back in the recliner. “We need to talk about what you just did there,” he said firmly.

Now Peter smelled panicked. “What? What did I do?” and sounded confused.

Steve relaxed a bit- the child hadn’t known. He was an innocent (seriously though, this was Peter. When was he ever not?) and so the misunderstanding wasn’t as serious it could have been. He tucked the boy’s head under his chin and held him there.

“I’m not mad. And you’re not in trouble,” he said. “But I need to ask you- why did you bare your neck to me just then?”

Peter squirmed a bit as he considered the question. “I... I don’t know? You... you were scenting me?” he said, deeply unsure. “I do it with Tony all the time-”

“Tony is an omega and your mother. You should _ never _ bare your neck to an alpha who’s not your mate. Tell me you understand.”

“I...” Peter floundered, clearly not getting it.

Steve sighed. “Baby- I- this is important, okay? Scenting on the neck- when an alpha does it it’s... it’s part of a mating ritual. I’m your dad and I love you very much, but it would be very inappropriate for me to scent you there. Have you done this with any other alphas?”

_ Dear god, please say no. _

Peter had frozen. “_ Oh _ \- oh my _ god _ \- DAD- I- NO! I’m sorry- I didn’t - _ shit _-”

Steve rumbled to calm his panicking Peter. “Shh... it’s okay. You didn’t know baby. It’s okay.”

Peter calmed down a bit. “Can... can I scent you?” he asked, his voice small.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Steve said and angled his head the tiniest bit so that Peter had better access as he buried his face in Steve’s neck and comforted himself with his packleader’s scent. Steve ran a hand up and down Peter’s back, scent marking him.

“You’re my pup, so you can scent me as much as you like. You can scent Bucky or Sam if you need to, since they’re pack. But when you’re grown, the only alphas you should only scent are me and your mate.”

Peter considered this. “But... Tony... he scents me there-” he said quietly.

“He’s an omega. And your mother. Those rules don’t apply to him,” Steve said, then paused. “You know you should never scent someone in public, right? And no scenting _ anyone _ who’s not family or pack.”

“I know _ that _,” Peter protested.

Steve relaxed a bit more and scented his pup back.

“Has Tony gone over the pack rules with you?”

Peter considered. “We don’t talk about the pack to outsiders,” he said.

“That’s right. Do you know why?”

“They wouldn’t understand,” Peter said promptly. “And we have enemies.”

“Exactly. People don’t like packs anymore for some reason. I’ve never gotten Fury to explain it to me properly,” Steve grumbled. “Used to be you had your family and then your pack. Buck and I were pack even before the war. These days it’s taboo.”

“My health teacher said it was unhealthy,” Peter offered. “The pack leaders had too much power or something. They... sometimes they did things. To the omegas. And the pups. There was some big scandal in the 70s or something. I don’t remember.”

Steve froze again. “You know that you’re safe, with me, right Peter?” he said softly.

“_ Of course _-”

“Because if I ever- and I mean it- _ ever _ do something that makes you uncomfortable you can go to Bucky or Tony or even Nat about it and tell them about it. They’ll set me straight.”

“Okay-” it was grudging.

“I mean it now. Promise me,” Steve insisted.

“I promise,” Peter said softly.

“Good boy,” he said, and rumbled a bit in reward. Peter melted against him.

“And the other rules?” Steve prompted.

He could almost feel the boy frown. “Um... no alphas in the private nests unless... unless you invite them?” the boy tried.

“That’s sort of right. Nat’s not mated and she’s an adult so she can invite whoever she wants into her rooms. Tony and Darcy need their mate’s permission before inviting an alpha up- including pack alphas. The private nest is a sacred space. It’s a place that pups can find refuge and rest and omegas can have their heats in peace.”

Steve considered. “And I’m hoping I don’t have to tell you that alphas of all ages are banned from your private rooms, regardless of pack status. _ Period. _ Even at your Aunt’s. Technically, you could ask me first, but I will tell you no,” he said, pausing in thought. “Except for me. I can go in to check up on you because I’m the pack leader. But usually I’ll ask if I can come in first, and I won’t go in unless I have a good reason.”

“Daaad...” Peter protested. “I don’t even _ know _ any alphas-” he whined.

“Good,” Steve said. It slipped out, and was a bit more possessive than he’d meant it to be. “Because that rule is going to apply to you until you’re at least 30, you got it?”

Peter huffed. “Yes Dad,” he complained. Steve could hear the eye roll. He ignored it.

“And?”

“There’s more?” Peter whined.

Steve sighed. “Peter, you are an underage, unmated omega. You are the pack's most vulnerable member aside from a new-born pup. So yes- there’s more rules.”

Peter grumbled about that, but Steve ignored that.

“Under no circumstances are you to be alone with an alpha outside of this pack unless your mother or I introduce him to you first. And even then I’d prefer that you have an escort. If you find yourself alone on the common floor and an alpha outside of the pack comes in, you are to go either to your private rooms or to a pack member’s private rooms and stay there until Jarvis tells you that they’ve left.”

Peter sputtered a bit at that. “What- _ Dad _-”

“Consider yourself lucky this isn’t the 1920s. If you were in my pack then, you wouldn’t even be able to _ speak _ to a strange alpha unless Buck or I introduced you first. And a decent alpha wouldn’t even look at you. They’d know you were under my protection, so they’d come to me to ask for an introduction.” Steve sighed. “Of course no-one does that now,” he said regretfully. “So I can’t ask that of you.”

“But I can take care of myself-” Peter protested.

Steve ignored that. “And has Tony gone over the other rules for you?”

“There’s MORE?” Peter was getting indigent now.

“You’re not to be outside of the nest without an escort. Tony doesn’t want you leaving the tower either, but I’m thinking he didn’t mean that you can’t go visit your Aunt’s. And Jarvis will be enforcing that. He won’t let you down to the public floors without an escort.”

“DAD-”

“No,” Steve growled sharply, silencing him. “This is for your own safety. _ Every _ time you’ve gone out since you’ve gotten your scent, something has happened. Your mother is putting his foot down, and I agree with him. And your medical condition is too unstable. Cho already thinks you fainted once from low blood sugar when you damn near brained yourself in the bathroom. Can you imagine if it happened in the middle of a... a Macy’s and you were by yourself? Or worse, if you had a reaction to something and seized in the middle of a street? They’d call an ambulance and give you god knows what- it could stop your heart again- NO. I will NOT bend on this. Do you understand me, omega?” he demanded.

Peter had gone quiet and still while Steve was mid-rant.

“Yes Alpha,” he said quietly.

Steve hugged him tightly. “We’ll revisit the escort rule when you’re better. But all of these rules are for your _ protection_, pup.”

Peter considered. “Does Jarvis count as an escort?” he asked innocently. Too innocently. Steve knew that tone. He’d heard it often enough from Tony.

_ Sneaky, clever omega, looking to bend the rules. _

Steve snorted. “Not if you’re dating,” he said darkly. “If you’re dating I want you at least six feet apart with a pack member sitting between you.” He paused. “And what is your friend again? Ted was it? What is he?”

Peter gasped at him. “Oh my _ god, _ DAD,” he whined. “His name’s _ Ned_, and he’s a beta! And we’re _ not _ dating! He’s just a friend!”

“In that case he can come visit you in your room, and Jarvis can count as your escort,” Steve relented. “But if he spends the night, you’re doing it on the common floor.”

Peter huffed again. “Yes alpha,” Peter said, begrudgingly.

Steve snorted. “Don’t be all sulky. You’ve been following all of these rules without even knowing it. Like- if we were watching a movie together on the common floor and a strange alpha came in and I got up to greet him- where would you stand?”

Peter considered for a long moment. “Behind you,” he muttered, sounding embarrassed.

“And would you speak to him until I introduced you? Told you he was safe?”

Peter grumbled. “I- I can’t help that I’m shy!” he protested.

Steve snorted. “That’s not shyness, baby. It’s instinct. It’s part of being an omega. You just need to listen to your instincts, pup. They’re there for a _reason_. If something feels wrong, it’s probably because something IS wrong.”

“But... Tony’s not like that-” Peter protested. “Nat’s not like that either-”

“They’ve had hard lives, baby. All that sweet omeganess was beat out of them early,” Steve said sadly. “And Tony has pretended to be a beta for a long, long time. You can overcome most instincts with enough practice.”

Peter sighed. “Wish I was an alpha,” he grumbled. “Life would be easier.”

Steve hummed. “Maybe. But I’ll tell you this- an alpha doesn’t get nearly as many cuddles that an omega does,” he said teasingly. “And you smell much, much sweeter,” Steve took a giant, exaggerated huff from Peter’s hair on purpose, eliciting a squawk from the omega. He hummed dramatically, and gently (but firmly) kept a hold of the squirming boy. “Happy omega,” he rumbled. “Best scent _ ever. _”

“Daaaad!” Peter protested, and smacked his chest, but Steve didn’t relent, and huffed again.

“Oh. My. _ God, _” Peter complained. “You’re awful!”

But his scent read as happy and embarrassed, so Steve held firm. “_My pup_,” he rumbled. “You smell just like your Ma,” he said contentedly, his face now firmly planted in Peter’s hair.

Peter stilled at that. “I do?” he asked.

Steve hummed in assent. When the omega stayed quiet for a minute, Steve asked “Baby? What’s wrong?”

“To- Ma said he smelled bad,” Peter said quietly. “He said that’s why he takes scent blockers.”

Steve frowned. _ Smelled bad? WTF? _

“He doesn’t smell bad honey. He’s actually one of the best omega’s I’ve ever scented,” Steve said honestly.

“What does he smell like?” Peter asked. “Does he really smell like me?”

Steve considered.

“When me and the Howlies first hit France, the war had been going on for a while already,” Steve said thoughtfully. “I didn’t get recruited until late, and there was the whole ‘circus monkey’ act they had me do for a while. So France had surrendered already.”

He could feel Peter’s frown. “What does France have to do with-” he protested.

Steve ignored him. “We were relying on the resistance forces for intel, and that worked for a while- until the source that we were supposed to meet wound up dead a day before we arrived. And now I’m going to tell you a secret.”

“A secret?” Peter asked skeptically.

“If you are ever behind enemy lines, with no intel, and things are starting to look dodgy, you find yourself a small child and give him all the chocolate you have on you, and he and his friends will happily tell you every place they’re not allowed to go ‘because of the soldiers’ and then you high tail it out of there before they rat you out to their mothers,” Steve said calmly. “It’ll work until you run out of chocolate.”

Peter gave a high pitched wheezing giggle. “Really?” he asked skeptically. “That _ worked _?”

“The biographers thought I was psychic or something. I always went off and did it on my own- didn’t want to scare the kids with a literal war pack staring down at them. Bucky knew- but he...” Steve trailed off. “Anyway, all the Howlies knew was that I’d vanish sometime in the afternoon and come back with fairly good intel minus the chocolate.”

Peter was full on laughing now. “What- but what does that have to do with Ma?” he asked.

“We ran out of chocolate. And for a while, the little sugar packets they put in to go with our coffee worked. But then those ran out too. And I went without either for a_ month _ . It was _ awful _ . I don’t know if you’ve ever had to go a month without a single sweet- I mean, I used to go longer but then I got the serum and-” Steve sighed and shook his head. “I _ know _ you know what that feels like- I saw you with that shake earlier,” he teased. “There’s something in our makeup that just... _ needs _ sugar.”

“So, there we were, in the middle of nowhere France, chased by Nazis and sheep- and we came on this little old lady-”

“Wait. You were chased by sheep?”

“Don’t let them fool you- they’ll ram you right over for no reason- anyway so we found this lady and she had this barn, and she said she would feed us and let us sleep there if we helped out a bit around the place. And we weren’t in a hurry. So Buck fixed her door, and I chopped a couple of cords of wood, and everyone else fucked around with the chickens and a horse or whatever. And then she fed us rabbit stew. And afterwards, she gave us... _ apple pie _,” Steve said, trying to put as much reverential awe into the words as they deserved, and mostly failed. There wasn’t enough reverence in the whole damn world for that fucking pie.

Steve stared off into the distance. “I’d been smelling that fucking pie all damn day while she worked on it. I thought it was going to kill me. Just. Fall over dead from the sheer want of it. But it had too much cinnamon in it. The boys pretended to like it, and gave me and Buck the leftovers. But- she’d put actual real sugar in the thing. Lots of it. And that was the best fucking pie I’ve ever had in my entire life. Of course I had to wrestle Buck for the last of it...”

He paused, getting back on track. “But that’s what your Ma smells like. Cinnamon and apples and sugar. And you’re a cinnamon roll, fresh from the oven. I could put you two in a display case in a bakery if we were ever on the run. No one would even know you were there,” he teased.

Peter huffed and fiddled with a button on Steve’s shirt. (Was it possible for him to be any more like Tony?)

“What’s the matter, you don’t like your scent baby?”

“When I went to school- the teachers kept telling me I wasn’t allowed to bring food in,” Peter complained quietly. “They kept asking who brought in cinnamon rolls. Ned asked if I could share them at lunch.”

It took every ounce of Steve’s self control to not laugh at that. Peter was clearly upset about it- chuckling at the absurdity of it would _ not _ make the little omega happy.

So he hummed thoughtfully instead. “Your scent is the strongest when you first get it,” he said. “It should calm down a bit in another couple of months.”

“Really?”

Steve nodded. “Your enhancements probably are partially to blame as well, to be honest. After I got the serum I stunk for nearly a whole damn six months before my scent calmed down. We didn’t have scent blockers back then- I’m just glad it finally did, because otherwise the Nazis could have found me just with their noses.”

Peter hummed. It was a sleepy hum. Steve looked down to find Peter’s eyes half lidded as the little omega fiddled with a button on Steve’s shirt. (What was it about his clothes?)

Steve glanced at his watch. 2:35. The perfect time for a little afternoon nap. Which was good. The best healing happened while you slept. He rumbled a bit and ran fingers down the pup’s jawline to his scent glands, and ever so gently traced them with his fingertips.

Peter yawned, and burrowed deeper in Steve’s chest. “Stop that,” he complained with absolutely no heat. “You’re... you’re,” he yawned again, “_ cheating _-”

“Take a nap baby. Your body needs it to heal.”

Peter grumbled in complaint but otherwise did nothing to escape. Steve hummed a half forgotten tune and held the boy a little more snugly.

He was out like a light in less than two minutes. It was probably his ‘snack’ that did him in, Steve thought fondly. Whenever he was badly hurt he did little more than sleep and eat until he was back on his feet again.

He frowned at the followup to that thought. Normally it would take him a few days at most to recover while he ate enough to feed a family- always a challenge in the field. But he’d always been healthy otherwise before he’d been injured. How long would it take for the child to say- repair his entire bone system? Just to start?

He stared at a wall. This... this was going to be a long haul, not a short sprint type situation.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes Captain?” Jarvis replied softly.

“Double my protein powder and ice cream order until further notice.”

“Of course Captain.”

He put the boy to bed, taking extra care in tucking him in. He looked absolutely tiny in contrast to the large 4 poster bed. Even though the child was only 2 inches shorter than Tony, his build was completely different- Tony had biceps and thighs for days from forging and god knows what else he did in his workshop and from operating the suit. It wasn’t easy to walk around in something that weighed 500 pounds (in the more extreme versions) hydraulic joints or no.

Peter on the other hand... Steve would swear he’d seen toothpicks that were more robust than the boy’s wrist and fingers.

He sat idly on the bed and brushed hair off of Peter’s face. His fingers... itched. He _ needed _ to capture this sweetness- according to the books he’d been reading (he was NOT going to fuck up the kid like Tony’s dad had so clearly done) after omegas got their Scent they got extra cuddly for a while- a month maybe two. Something to do with the hormones making changes in the brain to help them better differentiate alpha scents and a few other brain regions the doctor’s still weren’t sure about as to what they did.

And the fact that the kid was sick wasn’t helping. Omegas were always more needy when they were sick.

Soon he’d wouldn’t want to sit in Steve’s lap anymore. Which just meant he’d have to be sure to take advantage of every opportunity to get some cuddles in. (Buck would say he was spoiling the boy. But if you asked him, Steve would say the boy was spoiling him).

A couple of minutes later he was sitting in a borrowed chair at the foot of the bed, sketching.

After a while, he checked his phone- still nothing from Clint.

He paused, looking at Peter, who was sleeping peacefully. He texted Jarvis.

“Any news on guest?”

“The Supreme Leader is currently undergoing an MRI to check for concussion.”

Steve blinked. Stared at the screen.

_ Supreme Leader? _

“What the _ fuck _?” he said, much louder than he’d meant to. He guiltily checked on Peter, who hadn’t even stirred. He hastily got up and very very carefully closed the door to the bedroom instead of slamming it like he desperately wanted to.

He paced in the great room for a moment, gathering his composure. “Supreme Leader?” he asked. “Who told you to call him that Jarvis?” he demanded.

“The Supreme Leader did. Today-”

“Since when do you accept nicknames for guests?” Steve growled.

“The Supreme Leader is 6th on my list of assigned nicknames,” Jarvis said smoothly. “Previously he was known as ‘Worshipful Master’.”

Steve frowned, doing a mental pack headcount. “Sixth? When was he added?”

“He was first assigned a nickname on December 4th, 2016.”

Steve stopped pacing. That- that couldn’t be right. That was only 8 months after the Battle of New York- Bruce had just moved into the tower, and Tony... Tony had been in Malibu...

Wasn’t that around the time that Tony’s house had blown up? Where had he been? He’d been in... Yemen? No. Lebanon. Probably Lebanon.

It was so hard to remember. Once you’d been to more than ten bombed out shells of various towns surrounded by sand, they all started to blend together.

The falafel had been good. He remembered that.

He blinked. How the hell had he forgotten? He’d been in radio silence, and when he came back, people were freaking out because Tony had apparently come back from the dead and defeated a particularly spooky terrorist, and gotten the Vice President arrested in the process.

Fury had said he didn’t need to worry about it- he was taking care of it on his end. And Steve had dropped it. Because they were barely a pack then, regardless of what he’d told Peter.

“Jarvis... why was he added to the nicknames list?” he asked.

“Unknown.”

Steve blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Forgive me Captain. But my data set from that time frame is particularly damaged. I was offline for quite some time.”

Steve stared at a wall. Jarvis... had been offline? But he was fairly sure that Tony needed Jarvis to fly the suit. He had a particularly vulnerable spot on his left armpit in the armor that functioned as a receiver for Jarvis. He couldn’t put it anywhere else because the armor hampered signals or something.

“It was that or my dick plate Steve. And we all know where the bad guys shoot me first. I’d be out of communications every fucking mission-” the omega had complained.

“What can you tell me about the... Supreme Leader?” he asked grudgingly.

“He is a most wonderful, merciful master,” Jarvis said. Wistfully? Since the fuck when did Jarvis wax poetic about anyone?

“He likes sweet tarts and Captain America is his favorite superhero. I’m supposed to remind Sir of that at least once a day...” Jarvis trailed off. “Oh dear. I think... I think I’ve forgotten I was supposed to do that.”

Steve went still again, but this time for a very different reason. He sighed and rubbed his face.

17\. 17 and added in 2016. Which would have made him... 14. 13 maybe depending on his birthday.

He stared at a wall some more. The nickname ‘Worshipful Master’ at least made sense then.

_ And Captain America was his favorite superhero. _

“Why have I not heard of him?” Steve demanded.

“All communications were blocked with Harley Keener on September 1st, 2017. Any further mention of him was forbidden.”

Steve stared at a wall some more, mind churning. None of this was making _ sense _\- There’d been NOTHING going in September or August except for that was around the time that Buck had been found. But Bucky had been his responsibility, not Tony’s. Tony had checked in every now and then, but had otherwise stayed hands off.

Clint had been more helpful than he’d been. Technically. Tony had housed them and provided medical staff and all that stuff. But he’d always wondered why he’d kept his distance-

_ Of course he’d stayed away. He was an omega. Bucky had been a very angry, very confused alpha at the time. Even Nat had struggled. _

Steve stewed in this new revelation for a while, chewing a lip.

“WHY?” Steve demanded eventually.

“Access denied-”

“Alpha override. 20648.”

There was a pause.

“Mrs. Keener sent a letter threatening legal action if Mr. Stark did not cease communications with her son.”

“Did _ she _ say why?”

Another pause.

“She wanted her son to quote: ‘grow up normal’.”

Steve’s eyes involuntarily darted to the closed bedroom door as a question he didn’t even know he’d had was answered.

Why Tony was so... reserved with Mrs. Parker.

He’d seen the man steam roll over Senators and movie stars and the filthy rich alike with zero remorse or regret. Hell, most of the time he didn’t even bother to remember their names, and he sure has hell had a full screaming fit at people for a lot less than what May had been putting them through lately.

But he’d remembered May’s birthday. Or at least, he’d had Jarvis remember her birthday and reminded him about it. It’d been a couple of months after Tony and he had become mated and Steve remembered being... alarmed by Jarvis reminding them to send a ‘birthday basket’ in the middle of dinner.

And he’d only yelled at her once, and even then he hadn’t even foamed at the mouth _ at all _-

_ He’d learned. _

Steve sat down and stared a hole into the blank TV screen. His thoughts churned in circles.

Something... something had happened. He’d taken in Harley- right around the same age he’d taken in Peter.

Then he had been run off.

_ He’d lost his pup. Then got him back. _

And Steve had all but suplexed him right into the kitchen island within the first 5 seconds of meeting him.

.........

** _FUUUUUUCK. _ **

_ He was screwed. _

“Jarvis?” he said quietly.

“Yes Captain?”

“Send someone down to 7-11. Get me some day old chocolate donuts.” He paused. “And some roses delivered to the penthouse.” He paused again. “Don’t get the roses from 7-11.”

“What would you like the message on the flowers to be, Captain?”

Steve considered. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

_ And please don’t kill me in my sleep. _

“As you wish Captain.”

Steve sighed and rubbed his face.

Regardless of Tony’s mood, he couldn’t hide forever. He’d have to face the music.

_Fuck._


	44. The Sins of Our Fathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting, discussions of domestic violence, Miss Communication makes a roaring comeback. 
> 
> Also, get your tissues. Lord knows I needed them when I wrote this.

Clint sat sprawled sideways over 2 of those stupid hospital chairs, a knee canted up over the armrests, with the other leg sprawled out on the floor. It wasn’t very comfortable but he looked cool, which is what mattered anyway. (Also being too comfortable led to complacency. Which got you shot.) He was about 20 profiles deep into Facebook, and counting. His eyes scanned the screen as he scrolled at near inhuman speed. Where the _ fuck _ was her Instagram? This ‘Abby Grace’ was 12 at most, no matter what her ‘about me’ section said. Which meant she HAD to have an Instagram...

_ Bingo _\- a post on her wall from a friend, Amber from 6 months ago- hyping her own Instagram. It was a hop and skip to get to Abby’s insta from there.

Aha. Harley’s sister had... interesting friends. (Was that a bong? Jesus, kids these days...)

He paused in mid scroll, and double backed, squinting. The stupid alpha she was kissing on the cheek looked familiar... he switched tabs.

Yep. That was Douchebag #2 in the body count back in Tennessee alright.

He glanced at the sleeping giant that laid in the hospital bed on the other side of the room. Clint had been ordered to babysit under pain of death by Tony, who was on the phone with the “child’s” mother and filling out paperwork for the doctors about things like... medical history and god knows what. Clint had turned off his hearing aid about 5 seconds after Tony started babbling, honestly. The omega barely made sense even on a good day and today was not one of them.

But still- obvious instructions were obvious. Watch the kid. Don’t let him hack any more Koreas, and make sure he didn’t wander off and cause havoc like Gulliver on the island of the tiny people.

Got it.

He frowned at the man/boy. It’s not that he didn’t _ not _ condone the killing of creepy older boyfriends of little sisters- he understood that impulse all too well-

It’s just... the kid was 17. And offhandedly hacked the FBI and apparently the Koreans (did the North even HAVE internet???) and had WAY too much control over Jarvis and....

He’d sat on the fucking plane and played candy crush on his phone like he totally hadn’t just blown a house to matchsticks with 7 people in it. Or knocked the FBI into apparent orbit. _ From his phone. _

And then he’d sassed him- _ and _clocked him as a former SHIELD agent on the first guess.

Plus the whole henchmen line...

_ At 17. _

(It was possible that he hadn’t killed those people but... Clint had learned a long time ago to trust his gut. And the dead creepy boyfriend all but confirmed it in his book).

So... just what _ else _ had the kid gotten into?

And how many people had he killed before?

He stared at the bed.

_ Dead creepy boyfriend... _

_ Dead creepy boyfriend_**_s_ ** _ ? _

He brought up the mother’s Facebook.

Eventually Sam poked his head in, and tapped him on the shoulder. Clint turned his earpiece back on.

“You’re clear,” Sam said over the background of annoying beeping from machines. “I’m taking over. They’re gonna do an MRI and some X-rays-”

“Cool man- see you later,” Clint said distractedly and bugged out.

20 minutes later he had a packet of papers in a discrete file folder with no label on it. The alpha always preferred his briefings on physical paper.

“Jarvis, where’s Cap?” he asked in a hallway, heading for the elevator.

“Captain Rogers is in the Penthouse,” Jarvis said.

“Great. Tell him I’m on my way up,” he said. The great thing about pack rules- well, the best thing really- is that 99% of them didn’t apply to him. Technically. So long as he didn’t ya know- fuck Tony in the middle of Times Square or something he could do pretty much whatever the hell he wanted simply because he wasn’t an alpha.

Like just randomly pop up to the Penthouse without an invitation. He didn’t do it often- but seriously- sometimes they ran out of milk in the common kitchen and Stark always had the organic grass fed good stuff. He bounced out of the elevator to find Steve on the sofa, staring at a wall with a look that usually meant that Some Bad Guy was about to really really be fucked.

“Cap?” Clint prompted, stopping well out of arm’s reach. Not that Steve would hurt him- but... he was alive today because he a fucking paranoid bastard. No need to stop now.

Steve took a breath, blinked, and turned to look at him. “Clint? How’s Tony?”

_ Ah. _ Fuck he’d forgotten.

Clint waved a hand dismissively. “We’ve got bigger problems,” Clint said, then paused. “Well. I mean. _ You’ve _ got a bigger problem.”

Steve frowned at him. “I’m listening.”

Clint tossed the file folder on the couch, and Steve picked it up. “What is this?” he asked.

“Goliath downstairs presented somewhere around 13 or 14. Grew fast and hard. His mom, the best I can tell, was a drunken whore, and remained one until fairly recently. There was a revolving door of boyfriends- usually there’d be a screaming argument, the cops would be called, the guy would vanish for a few days from social media, then reappear with black eyes or missing teeth and break up with her, leaving her heartbroken.”

Clint paused. “Of course, there’s all sorts of ways and reasons for drug addicts to get the absolute shit kicked out of them, but....” he trailed off meaningfully, and shrugged.

“And then,” Clint said, “a year ago, the mom’s latest baby daddy wound up with his car wrapped around a tree.”

Steve stayed quiet, flipping through pages. “And?” he said eventually, patiently.

“Three days before the asshole had been arrested for domestic violence against Harley’s mom. Apparently he hit her while she was pregnant. Gave her one hell of a black eye.”

Steve turned to look at him, giving Clint his full attention. “What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“The autopsy said he was drunk at the time, but his family insisted that he’d found Jesus or some shit and had been sober for like 6 months. But you know- you can’t argue with science. So everyone dropped it,” Clint said, and took a breath. “And then two days ago a building exploded. Leaving a creepy older boyfriend of his very underage little sister dead.”

Steve stared holes through his head before looking back at the files, lips pressed together.

“The state forest where the place exploded is apparently lousy with meth labs. One exploded there just last year- it caused a fire- they had to call in firetrucks from another county to help,” he said blandly.

“You think he did it,” Steve said grimly.

“I think...” Clint said very very carefully, “That you'd better be careful how you treat Tony in front of him.”

That got a glare. “_ Clint? _” he demanded sharply.

“The kid’s stolen nuclear secrets from North Korea. He took down the FBI supposedly by accident this morning with just a burner phone that I gave him. He has an override code for Jarvis that I have NO idea how far goes, and he when he challenged you _Tony took his side_,” Clint said urgently.

Steve blinked, eyes wide. “What?”

“Steve- you’re going to have tread carefully on this one. I don’t think another alpha has EVER put this kid in his place. He’s just...” Clint trailed off, unable to properly verbalize his thoughts. He settled for waving vaguely above his own head as far as his hand could reach, hopefully indicating some sort of “holy shit” size idea.

“The bigger the alpha the more dominant they tend to be,” Steve said quietly after staring at Clint’s hand for a moment.

“_ Exactly _,” Clint snapped his fingers. “He’s gonna run right over you if you let him- and I’m willing to bet that he probably won’t even know that he’s doing it.”

Steve stared at him, and Clint could practically see the gears turning in the blonde’s head.

“He has an override code for Jarvis?” he said eventually.

“Tony’s going to get a surprising new song for his alarm clock tomorrow,” Clint said. “Apparently, it’s something that he’ll hate.”

Steve sighed, and rubbed at his face. “And Tony?”

“He knows about the Korea thing and the FBI. Had me take the phone away. ‘Grounded’ him. The kid listens to him- thank god. But Tony’s not gonna hear anything I have to say about the boyfriends, I can tell you that right now. He already mentioned possibly taking the fall for the FBI thing. And to be honest, I’m not even that mad about the boyfriends either. God knows I’ve done worse for less.”

Steve stared at the files.

“But _ you _-” Clint shook his head. “Let’s just say there’s not enough money in the world for me to even consider being his step-dad.”

Steve shifted his gaze to the wall. “Any clues on if he hit the mom or sister?” he asked eventually.

“No. Only calls to the cops were for the boyfriends. Apparently screaming arguments were a common thing- but usually while the kid wasn’t home.”

Steve frowned at him.

“He had like 50 jobs to support his mom. AND he clocked me as a possible SHIELD agent within the first five minutes of meeting me. If he was, say- a Beta- I’d say he might be a good addition to the pack. Tony’s got a good eye.”

The ‘_ but he’s not a beta,’ _ went unsaid.

“Would you leave Peter with him?” Steve asked, his tone serious.

Clint paused for a long moment. “I wouldn’t leave Peter with _ anyone _,” he said eventually, scowling. “The little shit is too compromised right now.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, but otherwise didn’t comment on Clint’s word choice.

“What does Natasha think?”

“She’s still in Tennessee. The little sister just went into her first heat. There’s a baby involved, and the FBI and god knows what else are apparently sniffing around the property. She’s under orders to get the place in shape before leaving it to some hired goons from Stark’s security team to babysit.”

Steve slowly leafed through the papers, carefully looking at each one. Clint waited patiently- Steve wasn’t really reading them, he knew- it was just a habit he had when his brain was in overdrive. Besides, the man didn’t so much read as he did _ absorb _.

Eventually he stopped, and held out the file. “Keep this-” he said, “but-”

“Off the official and unofficial books, yeah I know. I’ll put it in my sock drawer,” Clint said, taking back the file.

“I want you to brief Bucky and Sam about this- _ quietly, _” Steve said firmly. “We don’t know anything officially, and while I want eyes on him, I do NOT want the omegas upset, or feeling unsafe in the nest-” then stopped, freezing utterly.

Clint likewise froze. “Steve?” he whispered cautiously as Steve cocked a head like a spaniel.

Then Steve was moving, and he all but ripped the door to the bedroom off the hinges. “Peter?” he called.

Clint trailed anxiously behind him- Peter was in the master bedroom in the middle of a large bed that dwarfed him. He was lying on his side, sniffling and crying into a pillow.

“Peter- baby, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, his voice gone all gentle in a way Clint had never heard before. He slid onto the bed and gathered the little omega up.

“I... I...” the boy gasped, shoulders heaving, unable to get words out. He was clearly hysterical.

Steve frowned at the boy. “Clint- there’s a nose spray on the island-” he said, quietly, urgently.

Clint didn’t have to be told twice. He retrieved it and handed it over without question. Steve gently held the boy’s face still with one monstrous hand and gave him a squirt with the other before handing it back to Clint.

“Breathe with me honey. In and out.”

Peter coughed a bit, and clutched at his packleader’s shirt. “Daddy-” he whined.

“Shhh...” Steve tucked him up so the kid could scent him straight from his scent glands and traced the kid’s scent glands with his fingers. “Talk to me baby.”

Peter just buried his face in Steve’s neck with a whine.

“Do your arms hurt honey?” Steve murmured.

Peter shook his head, and Steve relaxed a little. “You have a bad dream?”

Peter whined a bit, and Steve gently stroked his scent glands. “Shhh.... Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.”

It took a minute for Peter to get his breath back.

“There... there was an alpha...” Peter said quietly. “He... he told me to... to do things. I- I didn’t- didn’t _ want _ to-”

Clint felt a pit form in his stomach. He knew what that was like- he’d been left screaming in his own head while following Loki around like a damn puppy. But he’d had a magic stick to blame.

Thankfully, Thor had taken the magic crap back home with him.

But, what would it be like to know that it could happen to you- _ any time _? Just... an alpha walked up to you and next thing you knew you were on your knees?

_ Jesus Christ, how the fuck did unmated omegas ever leave the house? _

Steve rumbled deeply, and kissed the boy’s hair, rocking him a bit. “That will _ NEVER _ happen. Remember the rules we talked about earlier? How you’d never be alone with a strange alpha?” he said firmly. “That will keep that from happening, baby. You’re _ safe _ here.”

Clint sat on the bed, and put a hand on a too-thin ankle. “Hey. Kid.”

Peter sniffled, and turned to look at him.

“Anyone who even _ thinks _ about doing that is gonna end up at the bottom of a lake. You hear me? Me and Nat will take care of it- no problem.”

The kid flushed, but nodded jerkily, and seemed to relax.

“Are you sure you’re not hurting anywhere?” Steve insisted. “Even a little?”

Peter sniffed. “My arms ache a bit,” he said quietly.

“Did you get a new patch this morning?”

Peter shook his head. “Cho wanted me weaned off.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully, and ran his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Do you want a new patch?”

Peter shook his head.

“Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask. We’ve got plenty, and I don’t want you in pain.”

“Where’s Tony?” Peter whined quietly, still a bit sniffly. “I want Ma.”

Steve and Clint exchanged a look over Peter’s head.

“He’s busy kiddo. But I bet that Darcy is a good cuddler,” Clint said.

God, he couldn’t wait for Peter to call Tony ‘Ma’ to his face. He’d have to have Jarvis send that screenshot to his phone. It’d make a great contact photo.

Steve nodded. “That’s a great idea. You want me to call Darcy up? Or do you want to go down to her nest? I need to go check on your Ma.”

Peter blinked at him- his pupils were slowly becoming more and more blown, Clint realized, and checked the label- and _ holy shit _ that was... this was straight up morphine, he realized. And the dose... he had no idea they even made it that strong...

He frowned at that, but held his peace. Steve wouldn’t casually send the kid to outer space without doctor’s orders.

_ But still... _

He handled the bottle with a little bit more respect.

“Peter?” Steve asked gently after a long moment.

Peter blinked at them again. “I wanna lay down,” he complained. “I wanna- wanna lay down with Ma.”

“He’ll lay down with you later, alright?” Steve said, and gently set the child back onto the bed. “Jarvis? Can you send Darcy up?”

Clint put the bottle back and held up the doorframe in case Steve needed him again.

Eventually Darcy came out of the elevator. “Where’s the kid?”

“He’s in the bedroom,” Clint indicated with his head, “Watch it though- he’s orbiting right now,” Clint said, and moved out of the way.

She tsked, and went into the bedroom.

“I heard our little astronaut needs some cuddles?” she asked brightly, and Clint nearly choked on his spit.

“_ Darcy _-” Peter complained hotly. “I’m not... I’m not little!”

Darcy ignored him and kicked off her shoes and crawled into bed- Steve ceded her the space readily.

“Hush. Bucky just gave me his black card, and our wardrobes are too tragic. We’re going to watch some fashion shows and you’re going to tell me what you like, then I’m going to order everything while you’re too high to care about price tags,” Darcy said cheerfully, digging out her phone. “We can start with Versace- there’s this red mini skirt that’s going to look _ amazing _hanging off your ass-”

“Darcy-” Steve rumbled, frowning.

She rolled her eyes and waved dismissively at him. “I won’t get anything that’s indecent, _ Dad_,” she said. “So relax. He needs new jeans anyway- the ones he has are all _ high rise _-” she said, clearly scandalized.

Peter sighed, already burrowing into her. “No paisley,” he mumbled.

“That’s the spirit,” she said. “Go on- shoo. We got this. I’ll bring him back to my place when he’s back on earth again.”

Clint waited until they were in the elevator.

“Does he really need to be sent to the moon every time he has a panic attack?” Clint asked, trying to go for levity and somehow coming out judgemental anyway.

Steve sighed. “I’ll talk to Cho about lowering the dose- but she says his stress levels are too high, and he’s an omega Clint. It’s not good for him to go into distress, especially with his heart. I’d rather him be on the moon than-” he waved a hand, wincing with distaste.

Clint nodded, crossed his arms and tapped a finger against an elbow. He considered the spot on the elevator wall where buttons normally were. There weren’t any buttons in this elevator- either Jarvis took you where you needed to go or you weren’t going.

“Missions are stressful,” he said after a minute. Neutrally. Almost absently.

Steve caught his eye. “We’re not even thinking that far ahead right now,” he said firmly.

Clint nodded again, and felt a sort of tension in his chest ease.

The door to the elevator dinged open to Bucky’s floor, but Clint lingered for a moment. “Good luck,” he said eventually, and left.

The ‘you’re going to need it’ went unsaid.

******

Steve stepped out into the MedBay, and was almost instantly ambushed by Sam.

“How bad is it?” Steve asked, slightly panicked.

“He’ll be fine. But we need to have a word,” Sam said seriously. “Tony can wait another minute.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “Bucky already yelled at me-”

Sam shook his head. “Come on man- take a walk with me.”

They wound up in an empty exam room.

“Sam-” Steve said tiredly.

“Hey-” Sam held up a hand. “I’m not here to yank your chain or anything like that. I just- I wanted you to know that I saw the whole thing and- I understand, okay? I get it. He challenged you in your own territory. And he shouldn’t have done that.”

Steve stared at a wall, and nodded tightly- and waited for the but. There was always a but.

“And I know- you just came back from some bullshit mission that was a waste of time, and - I get it. I _ do_,” Sam said earnestly. “And it was within your rights to put him in his place. You’re the pack leader.”

Steve felt his fists start to unclench. “But?” he asked.

“There are other ways of putting him in his place besides violence. And I _ know _\- you didn’t try to murder the bastard on purpose. But reacting blindly like that is how accidents happen. And I want my pack leader to be thinking with his head, and not his knot,” Sam said bluntly. “Because reacting like that out in the field? That’s how missions go sideways man. That’s how people come back in more pieces than they left in. You feel me?”

Steve nodded tightly. “I- yeah.”

“Steve-” Sam said seriously, and Steve met his eyes.

“Is this kid going to be a problem? Because if he is, you should let me or Bucky take the lead. You can take a step back, you know that right? Anyone who challenges you is going to have to get past us first. I don’t care what fairy tales or old bullshit stories say. You’re MY packleader. If you’re not head, I’m out.”

Steve let out a breath he didn’t even know that he’d been holding. “I appreciate that Sam,” Steve said genuinely. “I just...” he rubbed his face. “Tony-”

“Tony doesn’t fuck up like that on purpose, and you know it,” Sam said firmly. “For a genius, he has the foresight of a goldfish. No offense,” Sam said. “But sometimes he’s lucky that god made him pretty, ya know?”

Steve chuckled, then glared halfheartedly at Sam. “I know,” he said.

Sam held his hand in a peacemaking gesture. “I just want to be sure we’re on the same page here. United fronts and all that.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks Sam.”

Sam purposefully lowered his head, a submissive gesture. “Alpha,” he said.

Steve took a breath, recentering himself. “Go upstairs to Bucky’s nest. Clint’s found some things on the kid. Alpha business.”

Sam stood up straight and raised an eyebrow. “What- he a serial killer on the side?” he joked.

Steve considered. “What’s that old saying... once is an accident, twice is a coincidence...?”

Sam’s other eyebrow joined in at his hairline. “Wow. Okay. Color me intrigued.”

Steve waited until Sam was halfway out the door. “Sam?”

Sam paused.

“Thanks.”

Sam snorted. “You got your omega some flowers?”

“I had Jarvis order some.”

“Just don’t forget to grovel then. You got this,” Sam said, and left.

Steve dawdled for a minute, feeling all of 4 feet tall and called before the teacher for fighting. _ Again. _

Right. He could do this. He was fucking Captain America for god’s sake.

He walked out and listened for hysterics or the sounds of something breaking.

There was nothing.

Frowning, (and now deeply suspicious), he had to ask a nurse where Tony was, then followed her to a private room. He thanked her, then peeked in. Tony was slumped in a chair, looking utterly exhausted. He was staring at the kid, who was sleeping peacefully in a hospital bed. Steve hesitated in the doorway, and decided against entering without permission.

“Tony?” he asked as gently as possible.

Tony startled in his chair, then turned to glare at him. It was a bit like watching a cat go from wary to puffing themselves up and hissing at you, Steve noted absently.

Tony hissed at him. “YOU-”

“Can we go somewhere, baby? I know you don’t want to wake him,” Steve said desperately, trying to avoid a public flagellation.

Tony’s gaze snapped to the sleeping mountain of teenager then back at Steve, his eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” Tony snapped, then stood up and stormed out. Steve followed meekly behind. Or at least, as meekly as he could. He’d never been any good at meek.

They wound up in the conference room where Peter had peed on him. He wondered gloomily if anything good would ever happen in this room, and closed the door behind them.

Tony stood there and stared at him. Steve shuffled a bit in place, dying inside at the anger in his omega’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

Tony’s glare didn’t falter.

“I... I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have done that,” Steve tried.

“He has two cracked ribs. A hairline skull fracture and a serious concussion,” Tony said witheringly. “And that was before you slammed him into my _ fucking kitchen island _.”

Steve flinched a bit at that. “I- I did NOT mean for that to happen-”

“No. You were just going to pin a teenager with cracked ribs to the ground,” Tony said coldly.

Steve couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

“I’m sorry,” he tried, with hunched shoulders.

Tony stared him down for several entirely too long minutes.

“I just... I don’t. I don’t understand,” Tony said eventually. “What... what were you even _ thinking_?”

“I wasn’t.”

“So... what- you walked in- saw another alpha in our nest, and just had to- to _ body slam _ him?” Tony asked, sounding both genuinely baffled and horrified.

Steve shuffled a bit, his gaze firmly on the ground. “He was touching you-” he offered lamely.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Tony go incredibly still.

There was another long silence.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but Tony beat him to it.

“Steve? Next time? If you need to hit someone, you hit ME, you understand? NOT my pups. _ Not my pups _.”

And that was like a 2x4 to the back of his head. His head jerked up, startled, to stare in horror at his mate.

“Baby?”

“Because you can hit me- I know- I know I fuck up and I need it sometimes. Okay? _ I know. _ But not my pups,” Tony pleaded. Actually pleaded. “I- I won’t- I’ll leave Steven Grant. I- I’ll take them and you’ll never see us again. You understand? I can’t-” Tony stopped for a moment to rally. “Especially Peter. Please- not- _ not Peter _-” as he begged he was tearing up a bit.

Steve stepped forward- intending to go for a hug- a little too quickly in hindsight, because Tony flinched a bit. Steve stopped dead. Unable to think of what else to do, he dropped to his knees, and stared at his mate’s feet.

“I would NEVER-”

“PROMISE ME STEVE,” Tony demanded over him, almost yelling. Steve could hear the near hysteria there.

Steve swallowed hard with a suddenly incredibly dry mouth.

“But-,” he protested.

“_ NO BUTS! _ ” Tony shouted. “This is all or nothing Steve! I won’t stand for it- I _ swore _ I would _ never _stand for it-”

“I promise,” Steve agreed quickly, tongue heavy and turned to ash in his mouth. Because what else could he say?

Tony took a breath and let it out. “Okay,” he paused, clearly collecting himself. “Thank you.”

And Steve had never felt more shame in his life than right now.

_ Jesus Christ- _

They stayed there, frozen in their tableau for way too long. Steve literally bit his tongue to keep from saying anything that might dig his hole any deeper than it was already. He had a feeling that Tony wouldn’t be able to hear anything he said anyway. Not the way that he intended it at least.

“I-I want you out of the penthouse for a couple of days,” Tony said at last, his voice strained.

Steve nodded, feeling lost and adrift. “Yes omega,” he said instantly.

“I just...” Tony trailed off, helplessly.

Steve never found out what Tony was going to say because there was a knock on the door.

Steve shot Tony a questioning look, who nodded minutely. Steve got to his feet just in time as a woman opened the door and stuck her head in.

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark- but you wanted to be told when Harley woke up-” she said anxiously.

And with that he was gone- Tony swept past him and the nurse at a near jog.

Steve stood there, staring at the open door for a long moment before leaving.

Bucky took one look at his face when he came out of the elevator and ordered Clint and Sam out- they didn’t quite run, but they moved quickly and deliberately didn’t meet his gaze as they went around him to escape.

“Steve?” Bucky asked.

“I uh... need to crash on your couch for a couple of days,” Steve said quietly, still feeling a bit lost.

A frown flickered over Bucky’s face for a moment. “Okay. Yeah. That’s fine,” he said. “Come- sit. I’ll get you something.”

Unsure of what the hell else to do, Steve sat on the couch. “You don’t need to get me something, Buck,” he said tiredly.

“Yeah I do,” Bucky said, and returned eventually with two oversized glasses filled with an amber liquid. He gave one to Steve, who took it on reflex.

Steve frowned at it. “You know we can’t get drunk,” he said idly. It smelled kinda sweet.

“Natasha saved it from when Thor was here last. Said I should keep it for- doesn’t matter. Drink.”

Steve sighed and drank. It tasted oddly of honey. And something he couldn’t quite place. It was good.

Bucky turned the TV on to something then fiddled with his phone for a moment before sitting next to him and just... what was the word these days? Chilled?

They watched a show. It was about dogs. How they evolved to work alongside their human packs back when people were hunter gatherers. When people were _ uncivilized. _

Of course, they didn’t say that. Not outright. But it was there in both the words the narrators said and didn’t say.

Steve drank his... whatever. It was good.

“You think we should get Peter a dog?” Steve said eventually.

Bucky sat in silence for several long minutes. “Where would he walk it?” he asked eventually.

Steve grunted. Good point. Nowhere was the answer to that question. At least for now.

More silence.

“How’s Darcy? Is she-” Steve trailed off, not knowing how to phrase the question.

“She says it’s too early to say yet.”

Steve nodded and drank.

The people on the TV started going on about how dogs went from helping in a hunt to being lap dogs in courts like France. How the tiny yapping machines were a perfect companion for bored omegas that dripped in jewels and manners.

It made him think of Tony. Bonding rings were no longer in fashion, according to Nat. And Tony had never made so much as a sly comment about how naked his fingers were.

Then again, he was an engineer. Did... things. With his hands. And he was more of a tie man. Not many beta men wore necklaces. It was more of an omega thing.

Which he understood completely. Back in the Bad Old Days jewelry was considered personal property and it was the only thing Omegas legally owned besides the clothes on their backs. But then the laws had changed, but the expectations of well to do omegas (Well. Omegas mated to the well to do) clinking when they walked hadn’t.

His eyes narrowed a bit at the screen. Had Tony not asked because he truly wasn’t interested, or was it another one of those things that the omega didn’t even know he _ could _ ask for?

He should get him something. And not with Tony’s money either. He still had his SHIELD pay and his back pay from the War sitting around gathering interest somewhere.

And hadn’t Jarvis said something about it being... six months was it? Seemed as good an excuse as any. He needed to be more on top of that. Tony might not care, but... then again he also might. Care that is.

He really really really shouldn’t risk disappointing his mate anymore than he already had.

Especially since Tony’s level of expectations of him seemed to be... subterranean. Probably somewhere alongside wherever the fuck they found oil these days.

He drank some more. His glass was almost empty now, he noted absently.

He sighed and leaned back against the couch. His fingers buzzed. He may or may not have slumped against Bucky who didn’t say a single word about it.

“He wanted me to hit him. Instead of the kids.” he said, slurring a bit into Buck’s shoulder. “Said he deserved it.”

Bucky went utterly still for a long moment. His glass, Steve noticed, had barely been touched.

“Said I would. Tried... I already told him I wouldn’t. Hit him. I mean. But... he flinches sometimes.”

Bucky sighed. “Howard was a bastard,” he said eventually, his voice full of regret. “I always told you that but you never listened.” He took a sip of his beer.

Steve blinked, and suddenly felt several things come into too-sharp of a focus. He didn’t like what he was seeing either.

The pathetic heat room. The scent blockers (he smelled bad, Tony thought). He’d died a long time ago, Tony had said.

A low growl was coming from somewhere. Bucky nudged him and Steve realized it was coming from him.

“I should piss on his grave,” Steve growled, then made an effort to stop making that noise. It took a moment, and more effort than he cared to admit.

They’d have to turn that old heat room into a place just for Tony’s jewelry, Steve decided.

His omega wouldn’t just clink when he walked, he would fucking _ rattle_.

Or, or... something. More so than he did when he had his armor on-

_ His armor. _

The one with heat seeking missiles, laser beams and enough weaponry to take down small countries all on it’s own.

That Tony was always ‘improving’ on.

_OH._

....

He wouldn’t just piss on that fucking grave. He was going to dig it up and salt and burn those fucking bones. Just like on that TV show. With the alpha brothers. With the car. And the vampires.

(Jesus did Nat have strange taste.)

Bucky wordlessly gave him his mostly untouched glass. Steve drank it.

“It’ll be better tomorrow,” Bucky said quietly. “You don’t sleep enough as it is.”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that, but was suddenly too busy passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve noticed a common theme in the comments from some of y’all where you mention that you check frequently for updates. That’s great! Thank you so much, I’m truly flattered! But if you have an account and click on the ‘subscribe’ button up at the top of the page, AO3 will send you an email notifying you when I post a new chapter. I really wish that I could give a firmer timeline on when I update but I really can’t, since I generally publish about 5 minutes after I finish typing the damn thing. And since this sometimes happens at 3 am, I think the email notification will be your best bet here.
> 
> Edit: 5/24/20  
I usually write my notes and end notes before I write my chapters. And of course, as soon as I mention "you'll get emails!" AO3's email thing goes down. SMH. 
> 
> Edit 2: Electric Boogaloo: (6/1/20)  
The email system seems to be up again! Yay! I'm also hard at work on the next chapter. :)


	45. The Sins of Our Mothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of domestic violence, Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting, Feeeelings, Mentions of Windows Vista (those who had to use it will know what I’m talking about), and infodumps. 
> 
> I mentioned in a previous note that we got off the Marvel Bus around mid-way through Iron Man 3. 
> 
> I’m throwing a lot of the movie out and doing my own damn thing. So hang on for a bit- an infodump is required. I’m sneaking it in, don’t worry. You’ll barely notice it.

It was late by the time the pow wow with the lawyers ended, and Tony only felt a small measure of relief after watching Nat, Clint, Happy, and a small contingent of lawyers and highly paid buff security alphas head to the airport to go retrieve his pup. So much could go wrong- a judge on a bad day, denying bail. The kid being hurt from the explosion- 

The kid being hurt while he was in jail by some skinhead alpha with more knot than brains. While also being previously hurt from the explosion-

Spontaneous combustion-

Okay. The last one wasn’t a thing. Anymore at least. He’d taken care of that problem. 

Seriously brain,  _ knock it off. _

Tony crawled into bed with Steve, who instantly drew him close. 

“Everything okay now?” Steve had mumbled, pulling Tony into his now usual spot of using Steve’s pecs as a pillow. 

Tony sighed heavily. “We’ll see tomorrow,” he said.

Steve hummed, and traced Tony’s scent glands until he passed out. 

_ Cheater.  _

****

Tony woke up late. He could tell because the spot where Steve had been was cold. He grunted and glared at this injustice. If he rolled over and wallowed a bit in his mate’s scent- well, only Jarvis would know. 

He was supposed to be freaking out about something- but he couldn’t remember what. Seriously- was it even legal for an alpha to smell this fucking good? He damn near smothered himself with Steve’s pillow. What the hell was wrong with his alpha, going on a fucking run or whatever instead of staying in bed with him? 

There needed to be a law about that, he felt. 

He was about to doze off again when Jarvis spoke up. 

“Good Morning- it is 10:30 am. It is Monday, April the 22nd, and it is currently 58 degrees and sunny with a predicted high of 64. I have good news from Mr. Frye- Mr. Keener made bail this morning and Mr. Frye is arranging for his release.” 

HARLEY. 

Tony froze, then relaxed. He’d made bail. He’d be home soon. He could breathe again.

And now he felt like an utter dick for forgetting.  _ Jesus Christ Steve _ , Tony grumbled. The man seriously needed to stop turning his brain to mush like that. 

“Also, Captain Rogers has left a message for you- he and the Sergeant have been called away to New Jersey to deal with-” Jarvis paused, “quote: ‘an idiot with a glue gun robbing a bank.’ Apparently there are hostages involved. The Captain is confident he and the Sergeant will not be out for long.” 

Tony frowned. “Just how confident was he?” he asked suspiciously.

“Both the Captain and the Sergeant lamented the fact that Peter is unwell. They thought this might be a good training mission for him otherwise,” Jarvis said. 

Tony relaxed at that. Steve had a habit of accepting “oh it’ll be FINE- it’s just a small thing” missions and then falling face first into a literal Hydra nest. But this was a bank robbery, not a warehouse raid. And glue gun(s)? It was a little... passé, even for Nazis. 

“Any word yet on what evidence they have against Harley?” Tony asked. 

“No sir. However, the only charge leveled against him was ‘possession of an explosive device’.” 

Tony rubbed his face. 

_ Of course _ . 

“Did they say what kind?” 

“No sir.” 

Tony sighed heavily. Hopefully it was just a glitter bomb and someone at the prosecutor's office was power-mad. 

But his gut told him that he wouldn’t be that lucky. 

He stared at the ceiling. It was too early for this shit. He took a shower. 

Jarvis, bless his silicone heart, had coffee waiting for him in the workshop when he finally stumbled in. Not that it helped much since it was decaf, but it was the thought that counted really. 

“Alright. Wake up everyone. Jarvis? I trust I don’t need to tell you I want access to the files of every agency that has so much as sneezed in the direction of my pup.” 

“I have been working on it for the better part of the morning sir,” Jarvis said. 

“And?” 

“I’m having a bit of trouble with the local authorities’ systems.” 

Tony frowned. 

“I thought you said they weren’t online?” 

“They are online, they were just difficult to find.” 

Tony’s frown deepened. There wasn’t a firewall designed that could keep Jarvis out. “What’s the issue then? Encryption? You having to brute force some passwords?” 

“No sir.” 

“Then what is it?”

“Their internet connection is exceptionally slow. They also seem to be using Windows Vista.”

Tony froze, coffee cup halfway to his lips.  “I’m sorry- they’re using  _ WHAT  _ now?” 

“Windows Vista, sir. I’m having trouble communicating properly with their servers. I cannot find any relevant solutions on either Stack Overflow, Quora, or Stack Exchange.” 

Tony sighed and rubbed his face. Of course there weren’t any solutions. Vista was what- at least 10+ years old now? No one in their right mind would try to force an artificial intelligence with a custom operating system to try to communicate with fucking  _ Windows Vista _ . It’d be like trying to use a supercomputer to talk to a gameboy. Why the fuck would you even try in the first place? 

“Let me take over J,” Tony said and sat wearily in front of a workstation. 

This was going to be a long day. 

***

“Okay, try it now-” Tony said, leaning back and twirling a pen. 

“Processing... Yes. I can now access the servers.” 

“Good. You foresee any problems?”

“Their file structure does not appear to be in any particular order. This will take some time.” 

“You keep working on that. Anything new from the FBI?” 

“I have pictures of objects that are marked as having been seized from Keener’s garage. There are also many pictures from the explosion. Most of them are of rubble.” 

“Bring up the ones from the garage.” 

Jarvis obliged. 

Tony scrolled through pictures. Most seemed to be of the garage itself. They’d documented it like archaeologists at a newly discovered Tutankhamen site. Which was bad- because it meant that they were at least marginally competent. 

Which was just typical really. Governmental Idiots were idiots right up until you  _ needed _ them to be idiots. Then suddenly it was all rules and regulations and 15 minute lunches and the signing of all the things that you’d planned on them dragging their feet on or better yet, losing-

He huffed and scrolled. And the more he scrolled the more the pictures felt... wrong somehow. He stared at a fairly benign one of an ancient couch and what was clearly a dumpster dived projector hanging from the ceiling aimed at a bed sheet. It  _ seemed  _ typical of a home garage inhabited by a teenager. 

But yet... 

He stopped on a picture of a glowy... thing, frowning. It was sitting on a shelf, and it was hard to see what it was from this angle. It glowed green- always an ominous sign in his experience. 

The next picture was slightly closer up. The glowing thing was surrounded by generalized crap. It looked... familiar for some reason, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was about the size of a frisbee, and apparently to work, it required enough copper wire to wire three houses. 

He hummed, considering. If he was an FBI agent... yeah he could see how it looked... bombish. But what the fuck  _ was _ it? 

He turned his head this way and that at it. 

It was a disc. A very fat disc. Half a soda can high? And seriously- what was with the wire? It reminded him of the inside of a brushless motor. That mother fucking  _ glowed. _ Why would you have a brushless motor that glowed?? He leaned closer to the screen. Was that... a jewel in the middle? 

_ It almost looked like... _

Whatever it was, it sat on the tip of his tongue, defying his brain’s efforts to come up with a name. 

Frowning, he clicked on the next picture, hoping it would be an even better close up. 

He made a face when all that came up was a random collection of pixels. 

“Jarvis, what is this crap? This is more pixelated than a dick in a Japanese porno.” 

“I apologize sir, but I seem to have lost connection to the main FBI server.” 

Tony frowned at his screen. “What?” 

“They appear to be down sir.” 

Tony stared at the crap picture for a moment. A bad feeling grew in his gut. “Where is Harley right now?” he asked.

“He is on your private jet sir, on his way home.”

“Show me the wifi activity,” Tony said grimly. 

****

“ _ Harley James Keener  _ \- stop hacking the god damn FBI!” Tony shouted down the phone.

“Tony?” the voice was breathless and surprised. 

“Stop it!”

“But I ain’t!” someone who was definitely Harley protested. 

“Because if  _ you’re  _ hacking the FBI,  _ I  _ can’t hack the FBI-”

“I ain’t hacking no FBI!” Harley protested.

“Well you’re doing  _ something  _ because the fucking FBI servers for the entire northeast coast are down. And don’t think I can’t see the VPN internet traffic on the wifi on my own fucking jet. So  _ knock it off _ .”

“Are they really down?” Harley asked in disbelief. 

“YES!”

There was some sort of mumbling then- “I didn’t think they’d be  _ that  _ stupid-”

“Harley?!” Tony demanded, exasperated.

“The bastards musta plugged my laptop into their fuckin’ network,” Harley said. “It kamikazed. The idiots musta been usin’ my modified teamviewer-  _ holy shit  _ -”

There was a moment of silence.

“So you just took down the FBI... by  _ accident  _ ?” Tony demanded skeptically.

“It’s suppos'ta kill anything connected to the network it gets connected to- full hard drive wipe and then brickin’ it if it can.”

“What- why on earth-”

“In case it got stolen! I wrote it to kill Xboxes,” Harley complained. “I thought it would take out the police station at worst-” he grumbled.

“Where the  _ hell  _ did you even get such an idea-”

“I based it offa that thing you did to track and disable the Ten Rings computers,” Harley complained. “So if anythin’, it’s kinda  _ your  _ fault-”

_ Oh, no he didn’t.  _

“ _ What did you just say?” _

“I mean- it’s the FBI's fault- who the  _ hell  _ plugs an unknown laptop straight into they’s system? What if I was like... evil or somethin’-”

Tony scowled down at the phone as a horrible possibility occurred to him. 

“Is this the laptop with the North Korean secrets on it?” Tony asked point blank. “Is that the same laptop that we’re talking about right now?”

“I don’t know nothin’ about no centrifuges,” Harley lied. Badly. 

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I didn’t say anything about nuclear secrets Harley,” Tony said sweetly. “But it’s nice for you to confirm it.”

God damn it. He needed to get that laptop out of the fucking FBI’s hands. Soon. And minimize whatever damage the kid was doing now-

“So whoever the hell is there with him- you need to take his fucking laptop away- right now.”

“He doesn't have a laptop! He’s got a burner phone!” Clint protested.

“I’s just playin’ candy crush!” Harley protested. 

_ Uh huh. _ Yeah right, like the kid was playing fucking candy crush- 

“Yes, well- congratulations kid. You’re officially the first kid that I have ever grounded.”

“But it ain’t my fault!” he protested.

Tony rolled his eyes to the heavens. 

“Consider your boredom as payment for the ‘oops I fucked up’ speech I’m probably going to have to give Fury later,” Tony said angrily. “It’ll also keep you from tacking on any  _ more  _ terrorism charges or whatever in the THREE HOURS it was supposed to take to get you from  _ jail  _ \- to  _ here  _ . So yes, you’re grounded, if for nothing else than for national security and the sake of my sanity. Clint-  _ take the phone _ .”

“Come on kid. You heard the boss. Don’t make me throw out my back.”

Tony waited anxiously. 

“I got it,” Clint announced.

“Good. We’ll talk when you get here,” Tony said ominously, and hung up. 

He stood there for a moment, collecting himself.  _ Jesus Christ _ , his pups were determined to make him go grey. 

“Sir- if I may- Harley is scheduled to arrive within the next hour, and his room has not yet been prepared. Shall I have the house keepers prepare it for you?” 

Tony stared at the pixelated picture on the monitor screen. With the server down, there wasn’t much to do on his end. He sighed heavily. 

“No, I’ll take care of it J,” he said. 

He set to work making sure that Steve’s old floor was teenager-ready. He laid out new sheets and a bedspread that didn’t stink of alpha- speaking of which, he cracked a window and put up several high strength deodorizers. Steve, despite his general awesomeness, had a certain... alpha stink about him. It was, to be fair, a fucking amazing smell to  _ his _ nose, but he doubted that a beta would appreciate his room smelling like a locker room at gym that catered specifically for alphas going for world records. 

Small miracles, it wasn’t that bad since Steve hadn’t been spending much time in here for the last few months. 

The work of fluffing pillows and putting chairs back where they belonged and stocking the fridge and pantry was oddly... soothing in a way. It definitely helped his frayed nerves. 

He was halfway through setting up a new laptop before he remembered that the kid was grounded. The last thing he needed was unlimited access to the Tower’s high speed internet and the latest hardware so that he could hack the fucking UN in a cry for attention. 

Not that that mattered really- the kid had been performing miracles with his practically prehistoric laptop even before Tony had broken into his garage. The things that kid could do with a fucking  _ dial up _ modem... he honestly didn’t even know that such things existed anymore, nevermind the kid’s AOL subscription (in fucking  _ 2016! _ ) that in and of itself had given him flashbacks to his college dorm rooms. 

Thankfully the kid didn’t have Napster. He would have had a full blown mid-life crisis right there in that fucking garage otherwise. 

He’d had to write custom software just so that Linux could even SEE Jarvis, nevermind communicate with him. (At least it wasn’t Vista.) 

Between that, trying to repair the suit and not dying from alcohol poisoning (they really weren’t fucking around with the moonshine down there) it’d taken him several  _ days _ before he could even get to where he could get Jarvis up and (mostly) running again. 

But seriously. Mild concussion from hitting an entire fucking forest face first and being seriously hung over (god fucking  _ MOONSHINE _ ) = bad times.

If anything the crash had taught him that he should really really memorize more things. Like his credit card number. And the phone number for his secure server. Rhodey’s number. That would have been a good thing to remember. Or- fuck- maybe even the number for the Tower’s  _ god damned receptionist _ . Instead you know- digits of pie. Which, to be real, did absolutely no-one any good EVER. 

He’d always relied on Jarvis to remember those things for him. But since he was a dumb ass, it never occurred to him to store that information on more than one SD card. The SD card that had been fried. Which meant no backup was coming.

(Though to be fair, he had  _ tried _ the receptionist. He’d looked the number up on google. But she’d hung up on him. Jarvis now helped screened all incoming calls. Just in case.) 

And the kid... 

_ The kid.  _

Tony rubbed his face. 

Hubris. 

That’s what that had been. Dragging a 13 year old across state lines in the back of a pick up truck into the middle of the Appalachian Mountains and telling him “You babysit Jarvis and take down the security systems, I’ll do the rest” had not exactly been a shining moment in the history of Tony Stark. 

On paper it’d seemed... rational. The suit wasn’t functional. But Jarvis kinda was. And the kid was... competent. Almost eerily so. All he had to do was stay in the truck. And he’d seen the kid’s skills. Knew that if something went wrong the kid should be able to fix it. All (in theory) he had to do was press some buttons when Tony called him to let him know he was in position. Then play some tetris. Or pokemon or something while he waited. 

And he wasn’t stupid. He’d parked the damn truck in the woods where the line of sight problem with the stupid microwave transmitter that Harley had cobbled together from a Dish satellite receiver, tin foil, bungee cords, and redneck voodoo was  _ barely _ solved. By the time he’d hiked around the place to where he wanted to come in at, he’d thought he was going to get fucking frostbite on his nose. 

And sure. It’d worked. The kid had shut the computers down and knocked the security cameras offline. But these were alphas he’d been dealing with- ex military, paranoid, minion having,  _ alphas  _ who did stupid military things like... physical patrols of the surrounding fucking woods. _ In December.  _

Seriously? Who the fuck _ did that? _

They had  _ security cameras _ for fuck’s sake.  _ And  _ they’d thought he was dead. 

His fault.  _ Never _ should have brought the kid. He should have taken one look at the kid’s stupid potato gun, tossed glitter at him, declared he was a hallucination and broken into someone else’s garage. 

Or... something. 

But hey- the kid had taught both the terrorists and himself a very valuable lesson that day: it doesn’t matter if you can melt things or shoot fire from your hands. A busted kneecap is a busted kneecap no matter how supposedly superhuman you are- you  _ will _ go down, and you  _ will  _ cry like a little bitch. 

And also wooden baseball bats are strangely harder to catch on fire than one would think. 

He sighed. 

_ This fucking kid...  _

What on earth was he going to DO with him? 

Honestly, a teenager in a bullet proof fursona suit that had a remote “off” switch who liked to string up muggers as a hobby was easy mode in comparison. 

He sat quietly on the rolly computer chair in the suddenly too empty room. Took a breath. 

Right. Getting the room ready. 

“Jarvis?” 

“Yes sir?” 

“I’ve got some new protocols for you. Call it- Baby Monitor Mark 2.” 

“Of course sir. What do you have in mind?” 

*****

Tony was pacing anxiously on the common floor when the elevator dinged and he all but sprinted over. 

“What the hell happ _ \- Harley _ ?” Tony sputtered to a stop. “What the  _ fuck _ -”

He had to look up. And further up. And further up still to look the boy(?!) in the eye. The only way he even knew it was Harley was because of the disheveled mop of what was probably a literally overgrown bowl-cut of chocolate brown hair. That and the too-serious brown eyes that met his gaze. 

And when the FUCK had he turned into a god damned  _ alpha?  _

A corner of his soul knew that he was being sexist as fuck, but his gut instinct was to bemoan the loss to science. 

An alpha. A serious, hand to god _ alpha.  _

And not just any alpha- give the kid a cape and a wig and he’d look right at home on Asgard. 

_ What the FUCK had happened to his precious beta science baby?  _

And why the  _ hell _ was he in a god damned bathrobe? 

“Can I sit down please? You can yell at me, I swear. I just... need to sit.” Harley pleaded.

Tony took in how the man-  _ no he was boy _ \- was standing and hastened to help. 

“Oh my god- come on-” Tony grabbed him by an elbow and guided him to a bar stool at a kitchen island.

Harley sat down heavily.

“Harley- what- are you okay? Clint- what the  _ hell _ -” he glared at Clint accusingly. 

Clint shrugged. “I think he’s crashing. When’s the last time you ate, Little John?”

Harley glared at him. “I dunno. What day is it?” he asked tiredly.

“It’s Monday,” Tony said.

“Yesterday mornin’?” Harley guessed.

“Clint- get him something- and... is that  _ blood  _ in your hair?” Tony demanded, as he pawed at Harley’s hair, outraged. “What the  _ hell _ , Harley?” 

At least it wasn’t fresh- it had dried and cemented itself to his scalp. 

“It ain’t my fault,” Harley whined.

“What  _ happened _ ?” Tony demanded.

“I dunno! I woke up in the hospital and ran for it. The FBI kicked down my door the day after, then they handcuffed me to a god damn wall for fuckin’ ever, then I got on a plane and came here,” Harley complained.

“Why were you in the hospital?”

Harley studied the floor. “House blew up,” he grumbled quietly. “I think I got blown clear.”

“ _ Your  _ house?” Tony sputtered.

“No!”

“Please tell me that you did  _ not  _ try to build a nuclear reactor-” Tony demanded.

“What? Of course not!” Harley sputtered. “Do it look like I can get uranium! I can’t even get palladium!”

“Then  _ what  _ happened?”

“I dunno! I- I don’t remember-” Harley protested.

Tony sighed, and put a hand under Harley’s chin, making him look at him.

“Look at me. Are you okay?”

“I... I gotta headache,” Harley said quietly.

No shit, he had a headache. If the blood and the remnants of a goose egg on his scalp was any indicator he’d gotten a good smack to his head sometime within the last few days. 

“And broken ribs,” Clint added.

Harley snapped to glare at Clint. “He’s been in pain since I picked him up,” Clint added. 

Tony could almost feel the gears shift as his brain went from “WTF?” to “Holy Shit, Injured Pup” mode. 

“Jesus Christ, Harl,” Tony complained, and wrapped him up in a hug.

Harley froze. “Tony?” he asked, sounding panicked.

“We’re gonna get you something to eat, okay? Then we’ll go to Med Bay and get you the good stuff. And while you’re high you can tell me what the hell you’ve been eating to get so fucking big,” Tony said quietly.

“Tony-” Harley complained, uncertain.

“Shut up kid,” Tony growled. “I hug now. Get over it.”

Harley huffed, then whined a bit- clearly in pain. The sound was like fingernails on the chalkboard of his soul. 

“Shh...” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Calm down. You’re all wound up. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just like old times, right? Everything’s going to be fine,” he murmured. 

“It ain’t fine. They's gonna charge me-” Harley protested quietly.

“And I literally have hundreds of lawyers prepared to bury them alive in paperwork, you understand? That courthouse isn’t going to know what hit them,” Tony vowed. “Worse case, I have an island that’s in the waters of a non-extradition country. You can go live in a beach house for 6 months while I blackmail some Senators.”

“Tony-”

“I said  _ hush  _ ,” Tony ordered. “When have I  _ ever  _ not come through, huh? You were fine then, and you’ll be fine now. Now fucking hug me back, it’s getting awkward here.”

“God damn old man,” Harley grumbled, but obeyed.

“There we go. Relax. It was scary, right? But it’s over and you’re safe. I got you kid.”

“Tony-”

“I said  _ hush _ ,” Tony scolded, and ran his fingers through Harley’s hair. He could feel the boy start to relax in his arms. 

“That’s it. I got you,” Tony murmured. “Shh...”

Tony stood there for a long moment, just holding him, his forehead pressed into Harley’s hair, gently scenting him. The boy smelled a bit like Steve- woodsmoke and... something else he couldn’t quite place. And like all super-sized alphas the kid seemed to have a separate nuclear reactor just for body heat purposes.

“You feeling better sweetheart?” Tony asked quietly.

_ “TONY?!”  _

And then everything went to shit. 

It was like Peter all over again, but worse, and with more paperwork. The ink wasn’t even dry on his guardianship papers for fuck’s sake, and Steve might already have started the process of getting him fucking taken away- the last time he checked, CPS wasn’t exactly a fan of  _ body slamming children into god damned kitchen islands.  _

But he couldn’t fall apart- not now. There was reassuring to do and hands to hold while x-rays were taken (they made him wear a lead tunic thing for that, which he didn’t argue with). 

Harley had insisted that he “wasn’t a baby,” but Tony wouldn’t hear it and held his giant fucking hand anyway up until they wheeled him into a private room. 

“I’ll be just down the hall. Clint will sit with you, alright? I’ve got paperwork to fill out,” Tony said quietly, and ran fingers through Harley’s hair. 

Harley huffed. “Don’t need a babysitter,” he grumbled, but Tony could smell the stress and fear and pain on him.

“Take a nap. They’re probably going to do an MRI on your head in a bit. Keep fighting me though, and I  _ will _ kiss you on your forehead,” Tony threatened, and double checked the kid’s IV’s to make sure his line to the Good Drugs was unimpeded and flowing properly. 

That got an eye roll and a snort of indignation. 

“Clint- if you get out of that chair before I get back I will fucking duct tape you to the target range and let Bucky shoot you with paintballs,” he threatened. 

“Yeah, yeah, castration and death and whatever, I got it,” Clint said, clearly not paying attention, his eyes glued to his phone as he sat draped over several chairs. 

“Throw something at him if you need anything,” Tony said. 

Harley grunted, his eyes already starting to glaze over. The drugs at least seemed to be working, Tony thought gratefully, and left. 

And then there was paperwork to fill out. He had to call Harley’s mom and put her on speaker as they went over things like family history and medical history. Of which there apparently seemed to be terrifyingly little of either. 

“I don’t know what to tell you Mr. Stark,” Emily said apologetically. “I got him all his shots when he was a baby but then his Daddy left... she trailed off. “Mostly he got skinned knees,” she said. “There was one time I had to get him some amoxicillin from the pet store. But he did alright.” 

“So no alpha screenings? No vision or hearing tests?” Sam asked, apparently just skipping over the whole “I once gave my human child pet medication” thing. 

“What’s an alpha screening?” Emily asked, baffled. 

Tony rubbed his face, and held in a sigh. 

“Sometimes they do screenings through the school for free,” Sam said. “Do you have any paperwork for anything like that?” 

There was some shuffling of papers on her end. 

“I’ve got one,” Nat said. “It’s from... 2015? Hearing test. He passed.” 

“When did he present, Mrs. Keener?” Sam asked. 

“Oh my stars, I don’t know. Early January I think it was? He was real embarrassed about it. Heaven knows he didn’t want to talk to  _ me _ about it. He’s shy like that, my Harley.” 

“What year?” Sam pressed. 

“He’d just turned 14? So...” she trailed off uncertainly. 

“2017,” Tony filled in. If it was January, it wouldn’t have been long after the whole... hostage thing. He’d reconnected with the kid- what was it... late January? Early February? There had just been so much fucking paperwork and Pepper had been exceptionally needy after hiding in a bunker for several days thinking he was dead (Thank god for Stark Security. They’d whisked her off to a safe location right after the Malibu house had blown up). So not long after he presented, then. 

And not once had the boy ever mentioned presenting, which was just  _ baffling. _ Every alpha he’d ever met had been proud of when they’d presented. So why had Harley kept it a secret? 

“Yes! That’s right.” 

Sam pressed his lips together. “So he’ll need vaccinations, an alpha screening, and since he was... exploded or whatever, I’m going to recommend a tetanus shot. Who knows what he came into contact with,” Sam said, scribbling notes on a notepad. 

“And his father? I’m guessing he was an alpha?”

“Oh yes.” 

“He have any issues- heart disease, cholesterol-” 

“I don’t know.”

“Is there any way to get in contact with him?” 

“No. He-” she paused. “Is Harley there?” 

“No.”

“His Daddy shot and killed himself two years after he left us. Harley doesn’t know. Doesn’t  _ need _ to know. He left us and that’s enough,” Emily said sharply. 

Everyone paused at that. 

“I understand Mrs. Keener,” Sam said gently. 

Finally, FINALLY, they got all the things faxed that needed faxing and signed all the things that needed signing and Tony was left reeling a little. He’d taken over companies with literal thousands of workers with less paperwork. 

A nurse popped her head into the conference room. “We’re going to take Mr. Keener to the MRI in about 5 minutes,” she said. 

“Sam- can you...?” Tony started. 

“Hey- if you need to, take a minute. Breathe. It’s going to be okay,” Sam said. “Go take a lap.” 

Tony nodded. “I’m gonna go get some coffee.” 

It took a bit of hunting. Decaff wasn’t popular on the medical floor but he found some. He sat in an abandoned chair and just... took a moment. 

Okay. He had Harley going in for an MRI. All the paperwork was taken care of...

He was missing something. 

....

He sat up and dialed Nat. She answered on the 2nd ring. 

“What’s on fire?” she asked.

“I’m going to need you to hang around, and try to liberate some evidence from the FBI,” he said. “There’s a laptop that was taken from the house that needs to disappear, and maybe a possible bomb thing.” 

“A... possible bomb thing,” Nat repeated dryly. 

“I don’t know what it is. It’s glowy and it’s green. I don’t know about you but that’s never ended well. I’ll update you once Harley’s awake enough to talk about it.” 

“How critical is the laptop?” she asked absently. 

“He has state secrets from North Korea on there or something.” 

There was a pause on the other end of the line. He could HEAR Nat’s train of thought grind to a halt. 

“I see,” she said calmly, which was secret Nat code for “wtf is my life right now?” 

“I’ll start working on it. It might take a couple of days.” 

“If you need Clint I’ll fly him back out,” Tony said. 

She snorted. “I don’t need Clint to steal evidence from the  _ FBI _ , Tony,” she said archly. 

“I just don’t want you to break a nail,” Tony hastily backpedaled. “I know how attached you are to them-” 

She hung up on him.

Right. Well that was being taken care of. No evidence means no charges. So hopefully in the next few days all of that nonsense would be taken care of. 

He stopped just outside the MRI room. The little light outside it said that it was in progress. He stalled for a minute, debating on what to do next. 

“Mr. Stark?” 

Tony turned to find a red headed beta standing behind him. He was thin in a waspy sort of way. “I’m Doctor Glazer. I’ve been assigned to Harley’s case?” 

Tony shook his outstretched hand automatically. “Nice to meet you. Have you looked at his x-rays yet?” 

The man smiled tightly. “I have. Come with me. I suspect that this,” the man gestured at the room and it’s contents, “will reveal a concussion. But we have some things to discuss first.” 

Tony followed warily behind to an office. The man sat behind a desk and gestured for Tony to sit. 

“I understand there was an... incident upstairs earlier?” he said. 

Tony shifted uncomfortably. “He grazed his head on my kitchen island,” he said carefully. “But a few days ago he was involved in an explosion. He wasn’t properly treated for that,” he said pointedly. 

The physician nodded, and typed into his computer. “Anything in particular you’re concerned about other than his head wound?” 

Tony shrugged. “Sam thinks he needs some vaccinations? Tetanus maybe?” 

More typing. 

And for a moment, Tony almost relaxed. 

“Now, Mr. Stark,” Glazer said. “According to the x-rays, Harley has a hairline skull fracture, and two cracked ribs. And because of the whole... explosion thing I cannot say with certainty when these injuries took place,” the man fixed Tony with a pointed gaze. “And I know that technically, you are my boss. But I have an oath to uphold Mr. Stark. And if I think that Harley is in danger by being in your custody I will have to say something.” 

Tony struggled to swallow, his mouth dry. “It won’t- it won’t happen again. It was an accident,” he said. “Steve... it was a misunderstanding- that’s all. You know how alphas are.” 

And holy shit his mother just crawled out of the grave, up his ass and out of his mouth in that moment. How many times had she said that about him and Howard? 

He felt suddenly and violently ill, and clutched at his coffee cup. He’d sworn he would never do this sort of thing when he had kids and yet... here he was. Covering for his alpha. 

_ Fucking hypocrite. As usual.  _

God, could he use a drink right about now. 

Glazer either didn’t notice his sudden crisis or politely ignored it. 

“I understand. I know that can be... difficult sometimes, especially with older alpha children. But he is still a CHILD, Mr. Stark. I cannot look away if it happens again.” 

“I know. I’m going to talk to Steve about it,” Tony promised. 

“See that you do,” the man said, and turned back to look at his notes. “To your knowledge has he ever undergone an alpha exam?” 

*****

It felt like it was days or even years later that he finally sat slumped in a chair, studying Harley’s sleeping form. The MRI had revealed a concussion, just as they’d feared. And his hormones were out of whack, which meant that either he was seriously stressed or his rut was about to hit, or quite possibly both. 

Which was just... typical really. 

He sighed, and rubbed his face. God, he was tired. 

Not again. 

He wouldn’t let Harley get hurt like this again. Even- even if- 

“Tony?” Steve’s voice startled him. 

Tony turned and hissed at him, suddenly furious beyond words. “YOU-” 

“Can we go somewhere, baby? I know you don’t want to wake him,” Steve said, wincing.

Tony’s gaze snapped to the sleeping teenager then back at Steve, his eyes narrowed. He knew what Steve was asking. By rights he should do this in the streets- 

But the man  _ was _ the pack leader. And his mate. A small measure of mercy could be arranged. 

“Fine,” Tony snapped, then stood up and stormed out. He didn’t check to see if Steve followed. 

He took them to the conference room. It didn’t have any windows and was reasonably sound proof. Steve closed the door behind them. 

Tony stood there and stared at him. He honestly didn’t even know where to  _ begin _ \- 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. 

Tony stared at him. 

“I... I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have done that,” Steve tried. 

“He has two cracked ribs. A hairline skull fracture and a serious concussion,” Tony said witheringly. “And that’s before you slammed him into my  _ fucking kitchen island _ .” 

Steve flinched a bit at that. “I- I did NOT mean for that to happen-” 

“No. You were just going to pin a teenager with cracked ribs to the ground,” Tony said coldly. 

“I’m sorry,” he tried, with hunched shoulders. 

Tony stared him down for several entirely too long minutes. He really just had no understanding of alphas sometimes. 

“I just... I don’t. I don’t understand,” Tony said eventually. “What... what were you even  _ thinking _ ?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

“So... what- you walked in- saw another alpha in our nest, and just had to- to  _ body slam _ him?” Tony asked, both baffled and horrified. 

Steve shuffled a bit, his gaze firmly on the ground. “He was touching you-” he offered lamely. 

Tony felt the breath just leave his body. 

He’d fucked up.  _ This was his fault. _ He’d hugged Harley and Harley had to pay the consequence of it. Of course Steve had lost his mind. Tony had been...  _ stupid _ enough to touch another alpha- he never should have hugged him. Alphas were jealous territorial creatures. His father had certainly driven that message home often enough if Tony remembered his drunken screaming fits towards his mother correctly. 

And he’d forgotten that fact. Steve had... lulled him. Made him forget just how dangerous they were. 

What was the saying? Live with danger long enough and you lose your fear of it? 

Well. At least he knew what he was dealing with now. He could take... precautions. Now that he knew the rules he wouldn’t fuck up again- and perhaps he could mitigate the damage. 

“Steve? Next time? If you need to hit someone, you hit ME, you understand? NOT my pups.  _ Not my pups _ .” 

Steve jerked up to stare at him. “Baby?” 

“Because you can hit me- I know- I know I fuck up and I need it sometimes. Okay?  _ I know. _ But not my pups,” Tony pleaded. Actually pleaded. “I- I won’t- I’ll leave Steven Grant. I- I’ll take them and you’ll never see us again. You understand? I can’t-” Tony stopped for a moment to rally. “Especially Peter. Please- not-  _ not Peter _ -” he felt himself tear up a bit. 

Steve stepped forward- maybe to administer a correction? And Tony flinched a bit. Steve thankfully stopped, and dropped to his knees at Tony’s feet. Which helped a bit. It was hard sometimes to yell at someone properly when they were taller and bigger than you. 

“I would NEVER-” Steve started. 

“PROMISE ME STEVE,” Tony demanded. Never his  _ ass _ . Either he kept his hands off his pups, or he’d walk. Period. 

“But-,” Steve protested, which only infuriated him to no end. What the hell was  _ wrong _ with him? Did he really need to fucking hit people that badly? Could he not control himself?

“ _ NO BUTS! _ ” Tony shouted. “This is all or nothing Steve! I won’t stand for it- I  _ swore _ I would  _ never  _ stand for it-” 

“I promise,” Steve agreed.  _ Finally.  _

Tony took a breath and let it out as a surge of relief threatened to overwhelm him. “Okay,” he paused, clearly collecting himself. “Thank you.” 

Steve remained silent on his knees, and Tony tried to think of what to do with his fucking alpha. 

“I-I want you out of the penthouse for a couple of days,” Tony said at last, his voice strained. He needed some time to forget how he was feeling right now in this moment. 

Steve nodded. “Yes omega,” he said instantly, and Tony was grateful that he didn’t try to fight him on this as well. 

“I just...” Tony trailed off, helplessly disappointed.  _ I thought you were different. You  _ promised _ me you were different- _

There was a knock at the conference room door. 

Steve shot Tony a questioning look, who nodded minutely. Steve got to his feet just in time as a woman opened the door and stuck her head in. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark- but you wanted to be told when Harley woke up-” she said anxiously.

If Steve hadn’t stepped slightly out of the way, he would have run into him in his haste to get out of there. He rubbed the tears from his face as he walked. He could fall apart later. Right now he needed to talk to Harley. 

By the time he was back in Harley’s room he had his press smile back on. The boy was sitting up in bed, eating french fries off a tray. A bag with a McDonald's logo sat next to it. 

“Hey kiddo. Where’d you get that?” 

Harley gave him a pained smile. “Sam dropped it off like 2 seconds ago.” 

Tony perched one end of the bed. “You feeling better?” 

Harley shrugged, then winced. 

Tony sighed. “Look, I know you feel like shit, alright? But I’m trying to get some stuff moving here and we need to talk.” 

Harley sniffed, but otherwise didn’t say anything. 

“You were charged with having an explosive device. Do you know what they’re talking about?” 

“No. I don’t do bombs no more,” Harley said.

Tony’s eyebrows went up. “No more?” 

Harley caught his Look of Disapproval and snorted. “They weren’t  _ big _ ones! We use’ta chuck ‘em down inta the quarry and make bets on how big the splash would be. But then Abby got nosy and spilled black powder all over the fuckin’ floor-” he sighed. “I got rid of it. Can’t keep nothin’ dangerous in the garage no more between her and Emma.” 

“So... the green glowing mystery item isn’t a bomb?”

Harley frowned at him. “The wha?” 

Tony brought up a picture on his phone and showed it to him. 

He groaned. “I almost forgot about that,” he grumbled. 

“So, what is it?” 

Harley didn’t look at him, and ate another fry. 

“Harley?” Tony demanded.  “Arc reactor,” Harley muttered. 

Tony stared. “I’m sorry. Did you just say, ‘arc reactor’? Because I could have sworn I just heard you say ‘arc reactor’.” 

Harley shrugged- with one shoulder this time. 

“You built an arc reactor,” Tony said flatly. 

“Sure.”

“In your garage.” 

“Yep.” 

“With  _ what _ ?” he didn’t quite demand. 

“Stuff.” 

“ _ Stuff, _ ” Tony parroted back with 200% more attitude. 

Harley frowned at him. “You did it in a cave,” he said defensively. “With nothin’ but scraps. I had ebay and youtube. It weren’t that hard.” 

“You learned how to make an arc reactor off  _ youtube _ ?” Tony demanded. He wasn’t aware his voice could go that high. 

Harley rolled his eyes. “Just how to wrap the wire pattern most efficiently.” 

“Like a brushless motor.” 

“Somethin’ like that.” 

Tony frowned at him. Looked back at the picture. And yeah- he could totally see it now. If he hadn't been constrained by things like... ‘things that will fit in his chest’ and ‘amount of wire available’ or even ‘time’, he could see now how he might have made something like it the first time around. 

It was just so... odd to see his arc reactor the size of a god damn frisbee instead of a tuna can. 

“So why the hell is it glowing green? It should be blue- the palladium-” he stared at him as past conversations caught up with him. “You didn’t have palladium,” he said flatly. 

“Nope.” 

A bad feeling formed in his gut. 

“Harley... what did you use for the catalyst?” 

Harley sniffed. “This crystal thing I got offa this girl.” 

A crystal thing. That glowed green. 

He stared at the picture. A horrible, awful thought came to him. 

“Where did she get the crystal?” he asked distantly.

“She said her uncle got it from New York. From the aliens or somethin’. I didn’t really believe her, but it works, so...” another half shrug. 

He stared at the picture, and did a quick blueprint in his head. There was no way a standard chitauri crystal would fit in that hole. 

“How’d you get it to fit?” he asked. 

“Get what to fit?”

“The crystal. It would have been too big.” 

Harley ate another fry. “I sanded it down a bit.” 

Tony stared. 

“You... you sanded down. A chitauri crystal,” Tony said breathlessly. It was the most reckless, suicidal and STUPID idea he’d heard in his lifetime. And that was saying something. Hell, he’d once spent more than 5 minutes in a room with Justin Hammer. 

“Is that what it’s called? It was a pain in the ass.” 

Tony stared at the picture. “What did you  _ use _ ?” Even the slightest spark or misplacement of force could crack the damn things, causing them to explode- which was part of the reason why Tony never touched them. They were too unstable. The chitauri didn’t care if their stupid flying chariot things exploded sometimes after a slight love tap because there were so many of them. Humans, however, were a bit more picky. 

“Water and an emery board. Have’ta go with the grain.” 

“You used a  _ nail file _ ?” 

Harley hummed. “Yeah. I ended up usin’ one of Momma’s glass ones though. The paper ones shredded when I got ‘em wet.” 

“So... you filed it down and just... put it in?” 

“I had to like... encourage it with a rubber hammer but yeah,” Harley paused. “Probably shouldna done that. I dunno if I can get it back out again.” 

_ Right.  _

He’d just... taken a rubber mallet to an alien crystal. How the  _ fuck _ was this kid even still alive? 

“Is this the only one you made?” Tony insisted. 

“Yeah.” 

Tony relaxed slightly. At least there was a limit to the madness? 

“What ah... what sort of power did it throw out?” 

“Dunno. It fried my frickin’ voltage reader,” Harley complained. “I bought a new one, but never had time to use it.” 

“It fried the voltage reader I gave you?” Tony demanded, incredulous. 

Harley suddenly found his chicken nuggets fascinating. Tony frowned at him. Looked at the pictures again. Scrolled a bit. 

_ Where the fuck was the tech he’d sent him?  _

_ That’s  _ what was missing. His tech. He’d sent the kid like a science nerd’s wet dream worth of equipment, but all he saw in the pictures was salvaged dumpster trash. 

Just like Peter when he’d first found him. 

“Harley? What happened to the equipment I sent you?” he asked. 

Harley scowled a bit at his plate, but didn’t answer. 

“Harley?” Tony repeated pointedly. 

“Sold it,” Harley said quietly. 

“What?  _ Why _ ?” 

Harley sniffed. “Was short on the mortgage,” he said quietly. “And they was about to turn off the electric.” 

“And you didn’t think to call me?” Tony asked, aghast. 

That got him a glare. “You think I didn’t TRY? Everythin’ was blocked or bounced! Honestly don’t even know why I’m here,” he grumbled. “I think we both know you got bored of me,” he groused into his chicken nuggets. 

It knocked the wind out of his sails. “What- NO. That is  _ not _ what happened-” 

Harley gave his french fries a surly look. “It’s fine. People leave. No need to be a pussy about it, right?” It was clear he was going for nonchalant but instead came out bitter as fuck. 

And now he had a proverbial knife in his back- he remembered saying that exact phrase to Harley about his dad several eons ago when they first met. 

_ Fuck.  _

Jesus Christ, who the fuck knew projecting his own god damn daddy issues would come back to bite him like this. 

“Harley- I didn’t  _ want _ to blow you off-” 

“Uh huh.”

“Your mother told me to back off. So I did. And I probably shouldn’t have, but she threatened to have a restraining order put out against me if I didn’t.” 

Harley’s gaze, if anything, somehow seemed even less impressed than he’d been a minute before. “You... you listened to my Momma?” he asked. It sounded like he was asking if Tony actually really did shower with socks on. 

“I did. I- if she sued, it would have been a disaster- no judge in their right mind would let me anywhere near a child, especially then. I-” Tony swallowed. “I was a drunk, Harley,” he admitted out loud for the first time ever. 

Harley eyed him. “No shit. So’s my Momma. You think I was born knowin’ how to hold puke buckets and where to get moonshine in less than 20 minutes?” 

Tony blinked. He... hadn’t really thought about that, to be honest. 

“She wasn’t gonna sue you. She’d have’ta be able to keep track of what day it is to even show up to court. Which would’ve been my job and I would’ve just stopped waterin’ down her vodka and kept her home,” Harley said, as if these were perfectly normal things to do to one’s mother. 

He eyed Tony with those piercing too-serious eyes that somehow always saw to the core of him. “Speakin’ of which, you ain’t wearin’ your sunglasses. You over your hangover already?” Harley didn’t quite say it with a sneer, which somehow made it so much worse. 

I- ah. Stopped. Drinking.” 

Harley just looked at him. 

“I’ve been sober for seven months or so,” Tony said. 

“Uh huh,” Harley said, clearly not believing a word he said, and ate another french fry. 

Tony took a breath. He wasn’t here to fight, god damn it, and to be honest he fucking deserved that. Not that he was the biggest fan of the attitude Harley was throwing down right now, but god damn did he understand. 

How many times had he sat where Harley was and listened listlessly as his mother explained that yes- his heart was broken, but it was no-one’s fault (lie- it was his dad’s fault) and that life just sucked like that. 

_ And since the fuck when did he become his fucking mother in this scenario?  _

It was... odd in a sort of soul-breaking way. There were so many things that he swore he would never do. 

And yet. Here he was. He might as well dig Maria up and put on her dress just to get ahead of the curve, judging from how this day was going. It would probably save some steps somewhere. 

All he needed now was some pearls and a black eye. 

But that didn’t matter now. The kid needed food and rest. Sam had taken care of the food-

“Did he hit ya?” Harley asked quietly, derailing his train of thought.

“What?” 

“The knothead who got me. Did he hit ya?” Harley asked. 

Tony stared at him. “No,” he said after a moment that went on for a bit too long. 

Harley glared back, indignant. “He shouldn’t shove ya around like that. It ain’t right. Does your mate know he does that?” 

_ Fuck.  _

“Harley- that  _ was _ my mate,” Tony said. “And we’re going to talk about this when you’re not halfway to Oz on pain medicine and sleep deprivation.” 

Harley narrowed suspicious eyes at him. “I thought you was mated to Captain America?” 

“That  _ was _ Captain America, Harley,” Tony said tiredly. “Look- he- he had a rough morning and it was misunderstanding, okay? I talked to him and he said he wouldn’t do it again.” 

Harley stared right through him. 

“Uh huh,” he said. It was obvious that he believed Tony even less about that than he did the whole sober thing. 

Tony took another breath. “Look- why don’t I get you out of here and I can take you to your room and you can crash. We’ll talk tomorrow. I have to talk to the lawyers.” 

Something flickered in Harley’s eyes. 

“I have a room?”

“You have an entire goddamn floor, kid.”

It took yet more paperwork and another hour of waiting for things like pain pills, but Tony eventually, FINALLY, got Harley to his floor. Where he would be safe from all things exploding, and combusting, and other giant alphas. 

“And give me this robe so I can burn it,” Tony said determinedly, tugging at it. “It’s disgusting. I feel like you’re going to get measles from it.” 

“It fits me,” Harley complained, face down on the mattress where he’d collapsed, and not fighting Tony at all about the robe. 

“I’ll order you new ones. And don’t try the clothes in the dresser, they won’t fit you. I didn’t know you were an alpha when I put stuff in there. I’ll have some new stuff sent up,” Tony said, finally getting the robe free. “Just throw everything down the chute- Jarvis will show you where- it’ll go to the laundry. I’ll tell them to put it back into the guest supplies.” 

Harley grunted. He may be off the IVs but he’d taken two giant elephant pills a good 15 minutes ago in MedBay. Tony took off the boy’s slides- not a hard task since most of his legs below his knees were hanging off the end of the bed. Not that Harley seemed to be in any hurry to fix this problem. 

“I’m putting your pills on the side table,” he said, and rattled them pointedly before putting them down. Harley grunted again. 

“Do you have enough pillows?” 

“Fuck off already,” Harley complained into the mattress- he sounded half asleep. 

Tony ran fingers through the boy’s hair. “Ask Jarvis if you need anything.” 

Harley answered him with heavy breathing and slight snores. 

He sighed with relief. Pup secured. 

Now to call Nat and get her to reclaim the not-bomb-that-might-actually-be-one before someone did something stupid with it. Like try to blow it up. He had a feeling that Tennessee rather liked it’s scenery right where it was, and not in say- Kentucky or North Carolina. 

And maybe after dinner he could pencil in a nervous breakdown in the shower. It’d been a while since he’d had one of those, and it felt like he was overdue. 

And then afterwards he could catch up on Stranger Things and find out if it was possible to overdose on chocolate. 

Yeah. That seemed like a good plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never been a fan of the ending of Iron Man 3. The whole *point* of “Tony doesn’t need a suit to defeat bad guys” is kinda defeated when he- ya know- uses like 60 Iron Man suits to defeat the bad guy. (Like... seriously?) 
> 
> So that’s where my whole “Tony doesn’t use a suit” to defeat the bad guys in Iron Man 3 comes from. So no “house party protocol”, no Rhodey, no stupid “monkeys in a barrel with people” airplane stunt- just Tony, and a 13 year old with a baseball bat home aloning their way out of a base against alphas who shoot fire from their hands. (Now THAT’S a fucking story!) 
> 
> The good news: Happy fun times are coming folks. Just hang with me.


	46. In the Shadowed Valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA: Tuesday Morning
> 
> Tags:  
Flashback/nightmares of Scary Things, Howard Stark’s A+ parenting, fluff, cast of thousands, the never-ending chapter, no editing- we die like men

Tony walked into the penthouse, feeling a bit numb. His conversation with Nat had been short and to the point- grab the laptop and the glowy thing. Burn everything else, and he’d have his private jet waiting for her on a tarmac somewhere. She’d hung up on him when he asked if she needed reinforcements.

Now all he needed was to collapse into bed. Preferably with his bear-

He stopped mid stride when his brain registered what his eyes were seeing. A large... collection? Bouquet? An entire field’s harvest shoved into a jar? Of red roses sat on the island in the kitchen.

He approached it cautiously- the scent of them becoming almost overwhelming when he got close enough to touch them. The petals were soft under his fingers, and he fought an urge to bury his face in them.

After a tense moment, he decided, fuck it- he was god damn Tony Stark, and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and buried his face in them. It was just as heavenly as he’d imagined... he inhaled deeply and damn near purred.

He had to withdraw his face for the full body sneeze that followed but holy fuck- _ worth it _.

It took another few minutes of face-in-roses before a thought occurred to him- “Jarvis, what’s with the flowers?” he asked, his voice partially muffled in the flowers.

“I believe there is a card, sir,” Jarvis said patiently.

Tony removed his face from the soft heaven and searched- yes. Card.

_ I love you. I’m sorry. - Your Alpha. _

He stared at the card. Steve... had gotten him “I’m sorry” flowers?

He felt his lip tremble. Part of him- half of him maybe- wanted to throw the whole damn thing off the balcony and onto the landing pad. Maybe set them on fire.

The other half....

_ Steve had gotten him flowers. _

No one had ever given him flowers before. People didn’t normally give beta men flowers- the most he’d ever gotten was a single bloom from his stylist to pin to his lapel for a garden party some years back. And of course, Pepper sometimes got flowers for the penthouse to help “spruce it up” whenever there was a guest coming or something. But they weren’t FOR him. They were for the penthouse, and usually were taken Somewhere Else whenever the event was over.

He sniffed back a tear, and rubbed his face. He wasn’t going to cry over stupid flowers, god damn it-

And then he noticed the box. It was a plain white bakery box without so much as a sticker on it. He opened it.

Chocolate donuts. A variety of them- some chocolate with chocolate glaze, some regular donuts with a chocolate glaze, some with sprinkles...

He frowned a bit, and re examined the box. No fancy bakery marks on it anywhere- but it looked familiar...

He tried one.

_ HOLY SHIT. _

It was like being transported back to his college days. They were greasy and slightly stale and cold and the icing stuck to his beard and his fingers- and they were PERFECT.

In fact, they were just like the ones that Peter had brought to his lab that one time- Tony froze, his eyes narrowed.

“Jarvis, did Steve tell Peter that we were fighting?” he demanded icily.

“The Captain told him that you were angry with him because he lost his temper and hit a guest. Peter made him promise to apologize to the guest before telling him about how much you enjoyed the donuts.”

Tony chewed on a lip. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The last thing he wanted was for Steve to use the pup like a pawn/messenger to beg for Tony’s forgiveness. How many times had he done that himself? After a raging argument, having to beg his father for mercy on the behalf of his mother? Or worse, when he was younger, begging his mother to forgive his father- spewing out lies like “he didn’t mean it-”. But that was before he knew better.

“He said he was going to tell Harley he was sorry?” he said.

“He said he would, sir,” Jarvis said.

He considered the donuts and where they fell on the spectrum of “asking someone close to him about his favorite things” vs “using his pup as a sort of fulcrum against him”.

“Where are they from, anyway?” he asked while he considered.

“You will have to ask Peter sir.”

Tony blinked as his brain shorted out for a second. “What?” he demanded.

“I apologize, but the conversation indicated that the bakery’s identity was a secret that Peter did not wish for you to know.”

He gaped at the ceiling with an open mouth of shock. “Traitor!” he accused.

“I apologize sir. However, your privacy protocols are very clear-”

Tony sighed, and waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah yeah, I know. It’s my fault because I made you that way.”

“Precisely sir,” Jarvis said, somehow managing to sound smug about it.

Tony glared at the nearest camera and pointedly took an aggressive bite out of the donut. “I swear I’m going to reprogram you,” he threatened idly.

“I look forward to it,” Jarvis purred.

He eyed the donuts.

He’d allow it.

_ This time. _

He was eating donuts in a nest he’d constructed on the sofa watching Stranger Things when his cell phone went off- and he just about fell off the sofa. He fumbled for a remote for a second, hitting pause, and tried to catch his breath.

Of course the phone went off while a hand was trying to go through the wall at the little girl. Of COURSE.

He snarled a bit as he dug the phone out of the nest. It took a bit- between the bear wearing one of Steve’s shirts and the ten pillows and the OTHER bear, and the flowers and the donut box...

He found it, and tsked when he saw who it was.

He took a calming breath, plastered a media smile on his face and answered anyway.

“Pepper!” he said with noticeably false cheer. “What can I do for you?”

“Please tell me you’ve made progress with the new phone design,” Pepper said. She sounded like she was walking quickly somewhere- he could hear the clicking of her heels even over the phone.

“I... um. Yes?” he lied.

“Because you have to make a presentation to the Board in like 4 weeks. We need a functioning prototype.”

“Right. 4 weeks,” Tony said, and wondered what day it was exactly. He could have sworn he had more time than that- had the meeting been moved?

“And the plans for the helicarrier upgrades? How are you on that?”

Tony blinked. “Upgrades?”

The heel noises stopped. It was a Bad Sign.

“Have you read _ any _ of my emails?”

“Ugh-”

“Because you also have an interview on Friday-”

“I- what?”

“An interview. With a reporter. On Friday. It’s a puff piece for the Avengers? To distract from the bonfires and the raiding of the school filled with literal children? God, you really never read my emails, do you?”

Tony rubbed his face. It’s not that he didn’t _ mean _ to not read her emails... it’s just that she sent so _ many _. And 99% of it was stuff he didn’t give a single shit about...

“Pepper-” he tried. Whined, really.

“You need an assistant Tony,” Pepper started. “I can’t keep calling you and reminding you about _every_ _little_ thing-”

“Pepper-”

“You’re a grown man, Tony. It’s well past time that you _ grow up _ and start taking responsibility-”

Tony stared at a wall and held the phone slightly away from his ear. Phrases like “company that employs thousands” and “responsibility to shareholders” and “it shouldn’t take months to sign a piece of paper-” rolled past him.

He waited patiently. Eventually, the demanding, high pitched “WELL?” happened, which meant that the Rant was over.

He opened his mouth to answer her, but no sound came out.

He stared at the donuts. The flowers. The phone.

He hit a button, and then unpaused Stranger Things.

His phone rang again. He sent it to voicemail and muted it.

A few seconds later, the TV muted itself, and Pepper’s voice thundered down from Jarvis’s speakers. “DID YOU JUST HANG UP ON ME?” she demanded.

He winced. “Mute,” he ordered.

There was a blessed moment of silence.

“I apologize sir, but she is using an override-”

“ANTHONY EDWARD STARK!” Pepper roared.

Tony burrowed into his nest and flipped a bird at the ceiling. He was just... so done with this fucking day.

“You do _ not _ hang up on me- not after everything I’ve done for you.”

He sighed. _ Here we go, _he thought. He put a bear over his head.

“I am having Rosa put papers on the desk in your lab. You will _ sign them _ and _ send them back _. You will do this tomorrow. IT WILL GET DONE. Or so help me I will call Rhodey-”

Tony jerked and threw off the bear. “Pepper- no- don’t-” he pleaded.

“I will call Rhodey and you can explain to HIM why you don’t care about the company, or it’s future-”

“Pepper-”

“OR ITS FUTURE,” Pepper railroaded. “Long enough to sign some papers that should have been done months ago. We have entire departments at a standstill here, waiting on _ you _-”

“What? Why is that even a thing?” Tony demanded. “You know how much I hate fucking paperwork, why-”

“It’s not my fault Tony! You insisted on it after Obadiah, remember? Oversight means _ work _ . It means reading things, and then SIGNING THEM. And you haven’t signed _ anything _ for nearly six months now- and god knows, I’ve been patient, what with you... _ newly mated _ and all-” some judgement was definitely there. Rhodey had mentioned that Pepper had confided in him that she’d been a little... freaked out by how quickly he’d “moved on” after they broke up.

Which, to be fair, was a valid concern. But Tony and Steve had been dancing around each other for _ years _\- a fact that Tony hadn’t realized until after he’d been mated to the man.

Tony groaned.

“No- no. You don’t get to take that tone with me Mister. Papers. Tomorrow. Interview on Friday. Be nice. Don’t wear whatever the hell it was you wore at the gala. That was awful-” Tony reburied himself in his nest. “Phone plans and Board Meeting in a month. Helicarrier upgrades. And for the love of god, get yourself an assistant!”

Then there was silence.

He waited, on edge. “Jarvis?” he asked after a second.

“I believe she has hung up sir.”

Tony let out a breath, then scowled at a bear. “Disable her overrides, would you J?”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that sir. You will have to alter my programming directly.”

“God damn it,” he grumbled. Another Fucking Thing.

“Add it to some sort of list or something,” he said, and realized that while Pepper had yelled at him, he’d missed out on Plot on Stranger Things because while it had been muted- it hadn’t paused.

“GOD DAMN IT!” A pillow went sailing into a nearby wall.

***************

Harley ran. He ran even though his legs ached and his lungs couldn’t get enough air, and his feet stuck like glue to the gravel beneath his feet.

He ran. Because otherwise They’d get him.

He glanced behind him, and there in the dark, he could see their glowing red eyes and touches of flame coming from their hands.

He knew that the moment they touched him, he’d become one of them. Knew it down to his bones.

So he ran- ran- ran- down endless, identical corridors that had been hewn out of stone and dripped with water.

He ran- then slipped, and fell- fell heavily on the cold stone ground.

He grunted- tried to get up- but his limbs were the wrong size. He was small again. Like before he’d presented, and his arms were just so_ heavy _\- and They reached for him-

He blinked, and realized he was Back There again. Strapped to a table that was tilted just enough to make him feel like he was in serious danger of falling out of it- he was so small the bindings didn’t fit him properly. So they both threatened his circulation and also threatened to dump him on the floor at the same time. It was awful.

What was worse was he could smell the damp- there was certain mildewy smell that was just baked into the walls here-

He froze as his eyes landed on the table. Saw the stupid and large and unnecessarily complicated injector thing sitting on it. The first time- the real time- that this had happened, he hadn’t known what it was.

But now he did.

And it made being trapped here so much worse.

He struggled- but his ribs and left leg screamed at him. (Weird- when had he gotten injured?)

The door opened, and a tall beta man with dark slicked back hair came in. He was wearing a lab coat.

_ Killian. _

“Lemme go!” Harley shrieked with unbridled fury.

The man smirked. “And miss an opportunity like this? I don’t think so.”

Harley switched tactics, and tried his best puppy dog eyes. “Please mister? I’m scared,” he asked softly, throwing in a lip tremble. (It had been ages since that worked. It never did when he was big. But when he was small...)

The man seemed even more pleased at this. “Oh that’s good! Be sure to speak up- I don’t think Stark can quite hear you.”

Harley blinked. Stark?

“Tony?”

“He’s in another room. You see- we’ve hit a bit of snag here. He won’t help us with the formula. Something about morals. But I think the problem is that he just lacks... what’s the word? _ Motivation _,” the last word was a slimy one, and sent chills down Harley’s spine.

His eyes went to the injector. The doctor followed his gaze, and smiled. It wasn’t a nice one.

Killian picked up the injector. Harley watched him with wide eyes.

“Now, I have no idea what this will do to a child who hasn’t presented. Never tried it before,” he said conversationally. “Honestly, it will probably kill you.”

Harley started panting with stress.

“Or it could turn you into the next Captain America! That is- _ if _ you’re an alpha. Isn’t that exciting Stark? I know you’re a fan!” he said loudly at what Harley realized was a camera in the ceiling. “You see, alphas have always had an advantage when it comes to battle- they’re bigger, stronger, tougher- but they also have this amazing ability to go berserk,” Killian paused to scowl a bit.

“Or at least they _ did _, before it was bred out of them. Such a fucking waste, isn’t it? And this,” he gestured proudly at the vial, “Unlocks it. Gives back what was stolen. Returns a birthright, as it were,” he paused. “And of course it includes a few extra perks as well. I mean- why the hell not while we’re at it, right?” The nasty smile was back.

“Now hold still. This will hurt terribly,” he said.

Harley thrashed, but it was no use- the injector found the meat of his arm and hissed a bit as it jammed a needle into his flesh. He screamed a bit.

“There there now. Don’t cry. You have maybe 20 minutes before it takes full effect. Plenty of time for Stark to finish the formula and give you an antidote. Right Stark?”

From somewhere outside there was generalized shouting.

Killian ruffled Harley’s hair, and Harley snarled at him with enough hate to fuel a thousand suns.

“Now, I do hate it when they explode and get gunk all in my hair. It takes forever to wash out, so I’ll be going. But don’t worry! I’ll be back with an antidote- that is if Stark doesn’t take too long.”

He laughed a bit, then he left.

And Harley was alone.

He waited and cried. And for a long time- nothing happened.

And just as he started to hope- he started to get hot. And hotter. So hot it was hard to breathe- he looked down and saw that his fingers glowed a soft red and orange. Like when you put your fingers in front of a flashlight. But it came from the inside. Just under the skin.

Oh god. This was how he died. Like the others- he’d glow and then explode-

(Wait. This wasn’t right).

He was hot. So hot. And the glow spread slowly- so slowly.

He screamed and screamed but no-one came.

(NO. Tony- where was Tony? He was supposed to come-)

His hands caught fire-

(NO)

He could feel his bones start to melt inside him-

(This isn’t what happened!)

He thrashed-

And fell, landing with a horrible thump. His ribs screamed at him, and he shrieked back-

“It is Tuesday, April 23rd. You are in the Tower. You are safe. Sir is in the penthouse sleeping. It is Tuesday, April 23rd. It is 4 am. You are in the Tower. You are safe.”

It took a minute for the words to register.

“Jarvis?” he tried, his voice shaking.

“Yes, Supreme Leader. You are in the Tower. You are safe. Sir is in the penthouse, sleeping. It is 4 am. Would you like me to wake him?”

He panted with stress, his ribs protesting this wildly. He winced. “No.”

“Your pills are on the side table. You may take two.”

It took more effort than he cared to admit to get up off of the floor and detangle his legs from the sheets- that’s probably what triggered his nightmare. Being restrained in his sleep always... triggered memories.

He staggered to the kitchen and downed two pills.

_ Fuck _, he was hot.

For a moment, he felt an old twinge of panic.

NO. He was FINE. He was NOT going to catch on fire and melt and also explode all over the walls. He was just hot. From the blankets. Besides, that was just a dream. He’d never glowed in his life. He was FINE. It was a _ dream _.

_ That’s all. _

He limped into the bathroom, and a quick check in the mirror on the back of the door revealed an old looking bruise at the top of his left thigh from the fucking hormone rod.

_ God damned scientific crap. _

His ribs weren’t much better- they looked like a cartoon character had played the xylophone on them with concrete mallets.

He winced again, carefully shucked off his boxers and stepped into a blissfully freezing shower.

Hopefully the damned hormones would be as ineffective as Killian’s god damned shot. The fucking thing had done nothing but scare everyone to death. In fact, looking back, Harley rather doubted the thing had ANY formula in it at all- he was just trying to scare Tony into complying and helping.

Or something.

_ Fucking bastard. _

Thank god that scientist lady had a fucking moral line when it came to experimenting on kids. What was her name? Maya something? She’d helped Tony get loose, and then they came down and got him free of the World’s Worst Table.

Still. It was kinda worth it- he still remembered the look on the bastard’s face when Harley had taken out his knees. KIllian had been so focused on cornering Tony and fucking _ monologuing _while glowing, everyone had forgotten the pissed off 12 year old with a baseball bat in the other corner.

He’d twisted his ankle and gotten tased a bit earlier so he had crawled up behind him, and so Killian had completely missed him when he turned to torch whatever Maya was looking at. Harley had put as much of his rage into that swing as possible- which was difficult to do while kneeling- and the crack of breaking kneecaps was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

In the end, Tony had made him face the corner and cover his ears before he shot Killian in the head.

Sometimes he wondered if Tony had let him watch, if it would help him with his dreams.

He wondered what Maya was up to these days.

Hopefully she was fairing better than he was.

_ God _, he was so uncomfortable- even in the shower he was still hot, and his fucking balls ached for no god damned reason, and-

Holy shit his dick was hard enough to chisel granite in a fucking ice cold shower.

No. Nonononono.

Oh god. NO.

He shifted, gently testing with his fingers- and yep- there was his knot at the base, threatening to pop for no goddamn reason.

He leaned heavily against the wall of the shower and groaned. He was in a strange place, with literally only dirty boxers to his name and he was going into god damned mother fucking RUT.

_ SHIT. _

*****************************************

Peter shifted and sleepily rubbed his eyes as he heard a door close and footsteps in the apartment. A light turned on in the living room. After a moment, he carefully disentangled himself from Darcy and slipped out of bed.

He opened the door and stood in the doorway, blinking as his eyes protested the sudden blinding light. “Nat?” he called.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” Nat sounded surprised.

“Dad’s sleeping on Bucky’s couch and he didn’t want us there or something? And my bed’s too small to fit both of us- so we came here- that’s okay, right?”

“ ‘We’? Is Darcy back there?”

Peter nodded. “It’s alright, isn’t it?” he asked hopefully. “Darcy said she texted you but you didn’t answer-”

“Of course, маленький*. You are _ always _ welcome here.”

“Are you coming to bed?” Peter asked hopefully, and rubbed his eyes again. Nat was in her suit. Why was she in her suit? And it looked dirty-

“Let me take a shower and I’ll join you, alright? Go back to bed. It’s too early for little spiders,” she teased.

“Are you alright?” he asked. He knew better than to ask where she’d been. If he could know, she would tell him.

“I’m fine. And it’s early. Go back to bed,” she said, softly but firmly.

Peter sniffed, but obeyed.

“What is it?” Darcy mumbled as Peter climbed back in.

“Nat’s back home,” he said.

“Good,” Darcy said, obviously not awake, and rolled over. Peter snuggled up against her back.

He drifted as he listened to the shower turn on then off again.

When the bed dipped Peter reached for her. “Auntie-” he whined.

“Shhh... маленький. I’m here,” she said, and ran fingers through his hair. He buried his face in her neck- and got the faintest whiff of oranges in reward.

He purred softly, and Nat hummed back before gently kissing his forehead. Cuddling with his Aunts was so different than when he cuddled with Dad or even Ma- they were so much softer for one thing.

Even though their boobs kinda got in the way of him plastering himself to them properly when they laid chest to chest like he liked.

Nat softly clucked at him, and repositioned his legs into a better configuration with her knees, and he sighed contentedly as she gently scritched his scalp with her nails.

He drifted to sleep, warm and held.

It was _ awesome. _

***********************************

“LA LA LA LA UH UH AH,” a woman sang at inhuman volume to some sort of pop music.

Tony shrieked and fell off the sofa.

“Nalkaloun secret dulleossan, yaegin beil sog-e-”**

Tony covered his ears. “TURN IT OFF! JARVIS?!!”

The music stopped. “I do apologize sir. There’s a situation-”

“What the HELL was _ THAT _?”

“That was the song ‘Russian Roulette’ by the Korean pop band ‘Red Velvet’, sir.”

“What?” Tony sputtered, as he struggled to come to terms with existence in general as he laid on the floor.

“I said-”

“I heard you! _ Why _ did you play it?”

“It’s your wake up song, sir.”

“Since when? When have I _ ever _ asked for a god damned _ song _-”

“It is your new wake up song per the orders of the Supreme Leader. He said you would hate it.”

It took him a bit to work out who, exactly, the ‘supreme leader’ was- and then he took a moment to consider the various layers of meaning to that statement.

_ Harley is SO grounded- and he’s choosing a new fucking nickname that’s for sure. _

He scowled at the floor. “Let me guess. He used an override command to do that.”

“Yes sir, he did. He said it was time you commented my code properly.”

Tony groaned into the carpet. Well that made it official. He was going to take a serious look at Jarvis’ code the minute he finished melting into the carpet. He glared at the windows- which were just barely showing the slightest hint of a dawn.

“Jarvis... what time is it?” he asked suspiciously.

“It is 5:29 am.”

“JARVIS-” Tony protested loudly, winding up for a long rant.

“I’m sorry sir, but there is a situation with Harley-”

Tony froze. “WHAT?” he demanded, starting to panic a bit. What had he set on fire NOW?

“I believe he has gone into rut.”

Tony blinked. That... was not what he was expecting. _ At all. _

“Rut?”

“He is most uncomfortable. I believe that certain... supplies may help him, but he is not talking to me at the moment and seeing as how he is a minor-”

“He’s not talking to you?”

“He threw a pillow at my speaker and told me to ‘shut up’. He’s very upset.”

Tony tried to imagine going into heat in a strange place without so much as a bear to his name and shuddered. Yeah, he would be throwing things too.

Right. So... teenage alpha in rut. This was... fine. He could do this.

........

He stared at the wall. He had no idea what to do with this. There were... things? An alpha could use. Right? There had to be.

He had no idea what they could possibly _ be _\- he had a general rule that he tried not to be in the same building as a rutting alpha whenever possible-

Maybe he could ask Steve- ?

No no no. He couldn’t do that. For one thing he was still too angry, and screaming across the room at someone to go get rut supplies was not only weird as fuck but he didn’t want Steve anywhere NEAR Harley, especially if he was in rut. The last thing he needed was for Steve to suplex him. _ Again _.

Fucking alphas and their stupid rut aggression-

He rubbed his face. Bucky?

No. The man hadn’t had a rut this fucking century, he would have probably even less of a clue than Tony did...

Which left Sam.

Sam was a medic. From the army? Something? Whatever. He should be familiar with alphas far from home and their... problems.

Sam it was then. “Is Sam awake?”

“His alarm is scheduled to go off in 5 minutes, sir.”

“Great. Once he’s up, tell him to meet me on the common floor,” Tony grumped, and peeled himself up off the carpet.

God, what a horrible time to be stuck with decaf.

20 minutes later he was doing his best to not nod off while sitting at the kitchen island on the common floor, clutching his cup of decaf coffee like it was the cure for cancer. He sniffed miserably, and held in a shiver. The common floor was fucking freezing at this god forsaken hour-

“You alright there Tony?” a voice asked softly, and Tony opened his eyes with a start, to find a very concerned looking Sam sitting next to him. He blinked, and tried to will himself awake.

“I’m awake-” he babbled.

“I can see that,” Sam said guardedly. “I thought you usually slept in? And Jarvis said you needed to talk to me?”

Tony coughed a bit and took a sip of his coffee. “Need a favor,” he managed.

“I’m listening.”

“I- look. This is stupid, okay? But I have no idea what to do, and I need an alpha, and you’re the best one for the job, alright?”

Sam frowned at him. “Shouldn’t you be asking Steve-”

Tony shook his head. “No. No Steve,” he rubbed his face, and just went for it. “Harley’s gone into rut. And- and he has literally nothing Sam. _ Nothing. _ I think he might have a pair of dirty boxers, but that’s it. When I packed his room I was expecting a beta that’s Peter’s size but I got- I got- well you’ve _ seen _ him-” Tony said plaintively.

Sam blinked, then winced. “Yeah. I can see the problem.”

“Sam- I... I have no idea what he even needs- I-”

“It’s alright. Shit happens. He needs like... underwear and shirts and rut stuff. I can do that.”

“Jarvis said he’s upset. He threw a pillow at one of his speakers.”

Sam nodded, then chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

“Just... _ please _ don’t tase him or something-”

“Hey-” Sam said seriously. “Look at me. Your boy is going to be just fine, you hear? Ain’t no one gonna be tased.”

Tony shrank with relief. “Oh thank god. He hates being tased,” he said absently.

Sam frowned at him. “You okay Tony?”

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just... slept wrong. Or something,” he muttered.

“Can I get you something to eat?”

Tony blinked again. “No. I’m gonna... um. Go work on Jarvis,” he said. “I’ll be fine in a bit. But you’re taking care of Harley?” he asked, peering at him over his cup.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of your boy,” Sam said softly.

Tony nodded. “Thanks Sam,” then stood up and managed to walk over to the elevator. “Lab, Jarvis.”

It was time to get to work.

**************************

It was nearly 10 am when Peter, Darcy and Nat finally emerged on the common floor to find Steve and Bucky cooking something in the kitchen.

Darcy squeaked and all but ran to Bucky, who oophed as she collided with him, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Hey there doll,” he drawled, smiling down at her.

“Missed you,” she muttered into his chest.

“Missed you too,” Bucky muttered, and nuzzled her hair.

Peter, going for a more casual approach, merely walked up to Steve before latching onto him in a hug.

“Hey sweetheart- you hungry?” Steve asked.

Peter inhaled deeply, taking in Steve’s scent, and hummed in agreement. “You feel better Dad?” he asked.

“Of course I feel fine, baby. Why do you ask?”

“Darcy said you weren’t feeling good last night. Had to sleep somewhere else,” Peter said, still not quite awake. “I thought the serum kept you from getting sick,” he complained.

When Steve didn’t immediately answer Peter peered sleepily up at him. “Dad?”

Steve flashed a smile at him. “I’m much better now,” he said gently. “I’m sorry you had to sleep somewhere else. Where did you go?”

“Nat’s.”

Steve hummed, and ran fingers through Peter’s hair, making the boy sigh contentedly.

“Hey- I told you you’d be fine,” Bucky was saying, muttering into Darcy’s ear.

“I didn’t sleep as good,” she complained.

He shushed her and they kissed-

Peter watched with vague interest as the kiss deepened- (was that tongue??) then a large hand covered his face, and he squeaked in protest.

“Bucky! Not in front of the pup,” Steve barked authoritatively, and Peter batted his hand away.

“I’m not a baby!” Peter protested.

Steve snorted, ruffled his hair, then extended the motion to pointedly (and heavily) scent mark Peter’s back while his other arm held Peter firmly to his chest. Peter shivered a bit at the display, and Steve kissed his forehead. “Still _ my _ pup,” the alpha rumbled firmly.

Peter sniffed dismissively, and tried to ignore his heated cheeks. He looked up and found that while Bucky and Darcy had stopped eating each other’s faces, they were still wrapped around each other.

“If you’re done posturing, I like my chicken crispy, not burned,” Nat said, sounding bored from her spot on the island.

Peter reluctantly let go of Steve. “What are you making?” he asked.

“Club sandwiches. Why don’t you get the toast started?” Steve said.

“Okay.”

There were two 4 slice toasters, which made the work go a little faster, but still tedious. And Peter still jumped a bit when the toast popped- which was irritating because he was fairly sure that Bucky snickered a bit at him when he did. Peter glared at him, but Bucky managed to look perfectly innocent while slicing tomatoes.

Darcy washed the lettuce and Nat cut up fruit. Steve was on chicken duty.

“Where’s Sam and Tony?” Peter asked as he slathered fields of toast with mayo and mustard. With Bucky, Steve and himself having at least 3 sandwiches each, plus the girls, it made for a lot of toast. Nat and Darcy helped with construction, assembly line style.

“Tony’s in his lab and Sam’s taking care of the guest. He’s probably going to be staying with us for a while,” Steve said neutrally. “Which reminds me- he’s staying on my old floor, so it’s officially off limits.”

Peter frowned, considering. “Is he an alpha? Is he going to be coming to the common floor? You said-”

“Yes, he’s an alpha. But he’s gone into rut, so he’s staying put in his room for right now. And no- I won’t let him wander the common floor before I introduce you, alright?” Steve said, pausing to give him a reassuring squeeze.

Peter relaxed a bit. The last thing he wanted was to run into a strange alpha if he got up in the night for a snack or something.

“Are we getting a new pack member?” Darcy asked curiously.

Steve hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“But he’s an alpha- I thought you were in charge of all things alpha.”

“He’s in charge of _ adult _ alphas. Pups are strictly under the control of Tony and the omegas,” Bucky said.

“Wait... he’s underage?” Darcy asked.

“He’s 17,” Steve said. “And he’s staying with us because he’s having some... legal issues.”

“Issues?” Peter asked, worried now.

Steve sighed. “It’s complicated. And Tony knows his family so he’s doing them a favor. But you are _ safe _, alright? If I thought he was dangerous I wouldn’t let him in the tower. I’d have him set up in a nearby hotel or something.”

Peter considered this as he constructed his plate. Nat made him pause and piled his plate high with orange, banana, and apple slices. Bucky likewise poured him a large glass of thick chocolate milk. Peter thought he saw the words “vitamin enriched” on the bottle there, but decided to let it pass since it tasted good.

He settled at the table with his bounty. As he ate, he considered Steve. He wanted to ask if this was the same guest that he’d hurt yesterday. But he had a feeling that would be a sore subject, so he stuffed his face instead to keep from asking awkward questions.

“So kiddo- what are your plans for today?” Darcy asked.

Peter shrugged. “I dunno.”

“You should go down to the lab and spend some time with your Ma,” Steve said. “It’ll be good for the both of you.”

Peter perked up considerably. That’s right. He was off his medication. Which meant he could go down to the lab.

“I think I’ll do that.”

“Good. You can take him a plate when you go. Sam said he didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

Peter nodded, and listened as Darcy and Nat talked about redecorating, and painting spare rooms.

“We should go to the range upstate Steve. It’s been a while. I want to work you on long range targets,” Bucky said.

Steve sighed. “You know I’m no good at that sort of stuff Buck,” he complained.

“Which is why you should practice more,” Bucky said stubbornly.

“Not today you will,” Darcy broke in firmly. “We have an appointment with the lawyer at 3.”

Bucky winced. “I forgot.”

“Lawyer?” Peter asked.

Darcy waved a hand dismissively. “Mated stuff. We have to register with the state and sign papers and things.”

Bucky hummed. “I don’t think I’m officially alive either,” he mused.

“No- Tony got that sorted a while back. You got a new social security number,” Steve said around a mouthful of bacon.

“What?” Darcy asked, confused.

“I was born in 1917, doll. Most people my age are in old age homes,” Bucky said, amused.

“Who’s older? Dad or you?” Peter asked, curious.

“He is,” Steve said smugly.

“Frozen years don’t count,” Bucky countered. “I thought we established this.”

“Still older.”

“Which just makes me wiser, punk,” Bucky sneered.

“No fighting at the table,” Natasha said blandly. “Peter can’t eat his lunch if you throw it on the floor.”

The two alphas sniffed and settled, and Peter let out a breath that he didn’t even realize that he’d been holding. He knew the two men never fought- not for real, anyway- but it didn’t mean that he wanted to get accidentally caught in the middle of them either.

“We can go tomorrow then,” Bucky said. “And see if we can’t bring Peter and Sam with us. Maybe Clint too.”

Peter frowned at him. “Me?”

“It’s time you tried your hands with a firearm,” Bucky said.

Peter shifted. “I- I don’t really like guns.”

“Is it because of your ears? You can use a pair of protective headphones so it’s not so loud,” Bucky offered.

Peter deflated a little in his chair. How could he say he didn’t like them because of Ben? Not without bursting into tears anyway.

“Hey- it’ll be alright. They’re loud and big and can be kinda scary. We’ll start you off with something small. If it’s too much I think Clint might have some things you can practice with,” Steve reassured him. “And it’ll be fun. It’ll be a guys day out.”

Peter considered. A bow might not be too bad.

“Pardon the interruption, Captain,” Jarvis said from the ceiling.

“Go ahead,” Steve said.

“Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho would like a meeting with yourself and Sir sometime this afternoon.”

“Does Peter need to come?”

Jarvis paused, clearly communicating with someone on the other end.

“Dr. Banner would prefer that he attend as well, yes.”

“That’s fine. What time does Tony want to go?”

Another silence. “I do apologize, Captain, but my speakers in the lab are currently off-line. Sir is currently doing some work on my subroutines.”

Steve considered for a moment. “Make it for 2 o’clock then. Peter- make sure to tell your Ma when you go down.”

“Do I have to go?” he whined. “I just saw Cho like yesterday.”

“Your health is important,” Steve said, frowning. “And if Bruce is involved then it’s definitely even more so”

Peter sighed, but didn’t argue.

“Hey- it’s not so bad. Maybe it’s time to take your splints off,” Darcy offered.

Peter huffed. “It’s probably more blood tests,” he complained. “She _ always _ wants blood tests.”

Bucky hummed. “Better her than someone who’s actually crazy,” he said simply. “And at least nowadays they’ve got medicine to make it better. When Steve was your size the best we could do was pray about it,” he grumbled.

Peter frowned at an orange slice. “Were you really that sick?” he asked Steve.

Steve snorted. “All the time. I think I once had pneumonia for nearly a year. Just couldn’t shake it. Didn’t have penicillin back then either- you either died or got better.”

“Really? I thought it was discovered in like the 1920s,” Nat said.

Steve shrugged. “Didn’t get used until the 40s or so, if I remember right.”

Bucky nodded. “And you only got it if you were military,” he said. “They were rationing it for the War.”

“So I know how much you hate the doctors, baby. But you really need to go,” Steve said.

Peter sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Good boy,” Steve said, and ruffled his hair.

Peter grumped at him, but ate his sandwiches.

When they were done, Steve shoved another plate with a sandwich and chips on it at him. “For your Ma,” he said. “And don’t forget your appointment.”

“I won’t,” Peter complained, and headed for the elevator. “Lab, Jarvis.”

Peter got off the elevator on the floor that held all the labs, and made his way down a suspiciously empty and pristine corridor. It reminded him a bit of those labs always shown in horror movies- long white corridors with glass walls and no art or even an occasional water fountain.

It was because the glass was all blast resistant (Or in Dr. Banner’s case- Hulk resistant).

He juggled the plate and when he reached the door, opened it inwards with a hip.

“MA?” he shouted- over the complete and utter lack of blasting music. He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. Usually Tony liked his music on the edge of hearing loss.

He was even more cautious when he didn’t get a response, so he carefully walked in. It wasn’t like the show Hoarders where you had to navigate aisles through towers of crap. The floor was just... home to small piles surrounding apparently randomly placed workbenches that you had to be careful not to trip over.

Dr. Banner called it a fire and tripping hazard.

Tony called it “a system”.

He peered around- and finally spotted the older omega. He was hunkered down over a terminal built into what looked like a disassembled wall. Peter picked his way over.

“Ma?” he asked, directly into Tony’s ear, touching his shoulder.

Tony jumped, squeaking a bit, and clutched at his chest. “Peter! What-”

“I brought you some lunch,” Peter said, undeterred. “And Dad says we have an appointment with Bruce and Dr. Cho at 2.”

Tony blinked at him, then looked around wildly. “What time is it?”

Peter checked his phone. “Almost 11.”

“Is that a chicken sandwich?”

Peter nodded. “With bacon.”

“Give it-” Tony made grabby hands, and Peter hastily handed the plate over. Tony took a bite, and groaned. “So good.”

“I helped make it,” Peter said proudly.

Tony hummed appreciatively, frowned at him for a split second, before brightening considerably- which made Peter’s stomach drop. He knew that Look. Tony had an Idea, and it would involve him probably doing something tedious.

“I’m not sorting screws again,” he said firmly while Tony was still swallowing.

“No! No- no screws. I make Dummy do that now,” Tony said, then launched himself with his feet and glided over the floor while still sitting in his rolly chair and holding his plate.

Peter watched as he rolled over to a table that had been half-assedly cleared and now had an impressive stack of papers sitting on it, and ambled over.

“I need help sorting these,” Tony said, nodding his head at the pile.

“What is all this?” Peter asked, picking up a random paper.

Tony sighed. “Crap I need to read and sign. But I don’t have TIME- so what I need _ you _ to do is sort them for me. A pile for projects that are due to be renewed, and another one for new proposals. The first I’ll just sign, and the second I’ll read.”

Peter considered the paper in front of him. And yep- it was english. It took him a couple of attempts to parse the sentence he was reading though- it was like someone had shat out a thesaurus onto the paper.

“_ Ugh. _”

“I know. My feelings exactly. But- consider this an opportunity. Not many people get a peek at the workings of Stark Industries. And technically, you _ are _ my intern-” Tony wheedled.

Peter made a face and considered the paper in front of him. “Can I at least mark it up like my english teacher does?” he asked plaintively. “Because this... ‘hybrid synthesized protocol’? Really? They couldn’t just say ‘new protocol’?’,” he complained.

Tony made a face. “Some of it is expected. But yeah- that’s a bit egregious.” He hummed and took another bite as he considered.

“Tell you what- if it’s a new project, go nuts. Red mark all you like. The existing ones don’t need their balls broken.”

They had to find him a red pin and unearth Peter’s chair from a pile of books. Then Tony had to show him what codes were used to indicate if the project was new or just up for renewal.

After that Tony went back to his terminal while Peter waded through paper.

An hour later, Tony wandered back. “Pete? What _ is _ all this?”

Peter looked up, red pen in his mouth. “Hmm?”

“I said two piles-” Tony said plaintively.

Peter looked down at the sea of paper that now covered the table, and spat out the pen.

“Okay- so- these are existing projects-” he indicated the largest stack.

“These are new ones you’ll really like,” Peter said. “These are incomprehensible,” he said, pointing to another stack. “These are ones you’ll hate. And these...” he hesitated. “These are...” Peter winced. “_ I _ don’t like them.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “_ You _ don’t like them?” Tony asked, sounding puzzled, and picked one up from the Bad Pile. “What’s wrong with them?”

“I don’t know. I just... they give me a bad feeling. And they’re all from the same department. Some guy called Quentin Beck?”

Tony read the proposal carefully. “Holograms? You don’t like holograms?” he asked, puzzled.

“This one is for drones that project the holograms,” Peter said, pulling another one out from the pile. “I mean- I guess it sounds okay? For like ads or something? But I just... Drones that look like something else?” Peter said uncertainly. “I don’t like it. And I don’t know _ why _.”

Tony took the paper and read that one too.

“He says it could be used for stadiums for advertising or something, but isn’t there enough advertising as it is? There’s already blimps and the jumbotron and the seats-”

“Or for disguising missiles,” Tony said, his mouth set in distaste.

Peter blinked at him. “What?”

Tony tapped the paper. “If it can be put on a standard drone, it can be put on a militarized one,” he said grimly. “Or worse, something more serious.”

Peter’s mouth hung open. “I didn’t even think of that-”

Tony frowned deeply at the paper. “Good eye Pete. This definitely needs closer attention.”

“You can’t just... tell him not to make it?”

“If I fire him, he’ll just go to Oscorp with his ideas, or worse, Hammertech. They’d snatch this up in an instant and god only knows what the military would try to get them to do with it. No. We’ll have to let him make it until it’s patentable, then once it’s ours, mothball it. That way if anyone else tries to do it we can sue their pants off,” Tony said grimly.

“That sounds... mean,” Peter protested quietly.

Tony sighed. “I know. But sometimes the idea itself is dangerous. It’s better to own it and stick it in a vault than let it roam free. I mean- can you imagine? A drone that looks like an alien spaceship flying around downtown? Or worse- several drones projecting several spaceships? The panic it could cause?”

Peter felt a bit queasy. “Ugh. I don’t like either option,” he complained.

Tony shrugged. “It is what it is, kid,” he said, sighing. “Now move over and get me a black pen.”

Tony skimmed and signed while Peter continued sorting. It was quiet work for the most part. Occasionally Tony would snort and giggle a bit at something Peter had written in the margins, and sometimes Peter had to ask Tony what the hell a researcher was even talking about.

“Sir, you have 30 minutes before your appointment,” Jarvis said.

Peter blinked at the vastly diminished pile. They were almost done.

“Got it Jarvis,” Tony said, and chewed idly on his pen. “And send- ah- Clint down would you?” he said, as he signed industriously.

“Right away sir.”

“What do you need Clint for?” Peter asked, marking up another proposal. Tony had taken to simply writing “SEE NOTES” before rejecting things.

“If we hustle, we can finish this and Clint can take them to wherever the hell they need to go before your appointment,” Tony said.

Peter wrinkled his nose, and simply circled an entire paragraph before adding several question marks. “Isn’t that a little... beneath him?” Peter asked.

Tony snorted. “Yes, but he’s lowest on the totem pole,” he grunted.

“Can’t you just have someone come up-”

“You see this lab?” Tony gestured. “This alone is so above classified it’s not even worth talking about. And this stuff? If someone were to take a picture of this and send it to Oscorp they’d know all of our plans for product releases for the next five _ years _. I’m not going to ask Judy from Accounting to carry it down,” Tony said decisively.

“I, in fact, would probably have _ you _ do it, but between your arms and your appointment, we don’t have _ time _. And Pepper is going to crucify me over an anthill if this isn’t turned in today,” he grumbled. “So Clint it is.”

Peter hummed and went back to writing.

20 minutes later Clint appeared.

“You fixed my hearing aids?” he asked as soon as he got in range.

Tony looked up from the last two pieces of paper with a frown. “What’s wrong with your hearing aids?” he demanded.

Clint sighed. “I’ll take that as a no then-”

“What did you _ do _?” Tony demanded.

“They’re not waterproof,” Clint said simply.

Tony blinked at him. “_ What _?”

“They’re not waterproof. May have had some water thrown on me,” Clint said.

Tony sighed, and rubbed his face. “I’ll make you some better ones. Does Jarvis know your prescription- whatever?”

“I do have access to that information, sir,” Jarvis said smoothly from the ceiling.

“Great. I’ll work on it when I have a minute.”

“Then what do you need?” Clint asked, crossing his arms, his face wary.

Tony held up a finger, and did the last two signatures with a flourish, and added the papers to the pile.

“Great timing. I need you to take this-” Tony waved at the papers, “Down to wherever it is they need to go. Jarvis?”

“They go to the 30th floor, sir.”

Clint blinked. “An errand?” he asked incredulously.

“They’re important for my company,” Tony said dismissively. “Classified. That sort of thing. And Peter has an appointment with Cho I need to take him to.”

Clint considered him. “You need an assistant,” he said.

Tony sighed. “So I’ve been told. It needs to be done today. Before business hours or whatever,” he said.

Clint studied him. Looked at the literal toddler-height stack of papers.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said finally.

“A deal?” Tony asked, unimpressed.

“I’ll take these papers down for you and I’ll get you an assistant. But in return- you can’t fire her.”

Tony stared at him, even more unimpressed. “I can’t fire her?” he said flatly.

“For a month.”

More staring. “You think you can get me an assistant. That will _ last _ a month?” he asked incredulously. “Before Pepper the longest they lasted was a week!”

Clint gave him a small smile. “One month. You can sack her after. In the meantime me and Nat will track down someone who can do it long term.”

More staring.

“Is it really that hard to help Tony?” Peter asked, confused.

“No,” Tony said, at exactly the same time that Clint said “Yes.”

Tony glared at him. “I can’t help it if people are incompetent!” he complained.

“You’re _ impossible,” _Clint retorted. “But it’s mostly because they expect you to act like a Beta. You bob when they think you should weave.”

“I’m _not_ _high strung_-” Tony snarled back.

“I didn’t say you were,” Clint said reasonably. “One month. If you don’t like her that much you can always wait for her to quit.”

Tony stared at him, and Peter could see the man thinking. “You want me to _ try _ to make her quit?”

Clint didn’t so much as quirk an eyebrow. “Again. Never said that.”

“I’m a _ shit test _ now?”

“You want these papers delivered or shredded?” Clint countered. “Because either can easily happen.”

“Don’t shred them!” Peter protested. “I’ll have to _ read _ them all again!” he complained. “Ma! Just say ‘yes’ already!” he whined.

Tony sighed heavily.

“Fine. But I have high expectations,” Tony said firmly. “And _ zero _ tolerance for aggression towards Peter.”

Peter sputtered a bit.

Clint nodded. “Won’t be a problem.”

“You think she won’t like me?” Peter protested, deeply insulted.

Tony turned sharply to look at him. “What- no- no! I just- your safety is very important to me, alright? And some people are mean to kids because they don’t like kids period. And I won’t have it. That’s all.” Peter wasn’t quite sure he believed him.

Clint wandered over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey- she’ll like you. Don’t worry about it. Plus she’s 18. So she’s closer to your age.”

“You already have someone picked out?” Tony asked incredulously.

“Yep,” Clint popped the P. “Been waiting for an excuse to bring her on.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Another spy running around my Tower.”

Clint smiled like a cat. “Don’t you have an appointment to get to?”

Tony grumbled. “Yes, yes. Come on kid. Let’s go.”

Peter followed him out. Halfway out the door, Tony paused, and leaned back to call out, “And remember rule 5!”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” Clint roared back.

Tony snorted.

“Rule 5?” Peter asked.

“I’m not replacing the couch on the common floor again,” Tony muttered.

Peter blinked. Couch?

He made a face as he made the connection. “Ew, Ma! You really have to bring up Clint having sex?” he protested.

“She’d better be _ at least_ nearly 19,” Tony grumbled. “Otherwise your father is going to have a fit-”

“Can we not talk about this?” Peter complained again.

Tony hummed as they got in the elevator. “Medbay Jarvis.”

Peter considered the elevator doors. “What’s rules one through four?” he asked.

“What?”

“If there’s a rule five... that means there’s a one through four.”

Tony snorted, and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry about it. Those are Clint Rules. One is ‘hose off before entering the common floor’.”

Peter considered. “And the others?”

“Pranks are for SHIELD employees only,” Tony counted off fingers. “No teaching Steve curse words in ASL and telling him they mean something else, umm... I can’t remember the others.”

Peter giggled. “He taught Dad bad words in ASL?” he asked.

“And then he used them at a children’s hospital.”

Peter had to cover his mouth to smother the shriek of laughter. “Oh no! REALLY?”

Tony sniggered. “I mean, it’s funny _ now _ , but _ then _\- Steve was furious. Apparently he made a little girl cry.”

Peter giggled all the way to Cho’s office.

They found Steve waiting for them, who beamed at them. “What’s so funny sweetheart?” he asked.

“Clint,” Peter said. “He’s going to get Ma a new assistant.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I already reminded him of rule five,” Tony said tersely, and moved a chair over a bit before sitting in it. So that he was on the opposite side of the room from Steve, Peter noticed.

Steve noticed too, and a flash of hurt moved across his face before he cleared his throat. “You have a good lunch, Tony?” he asked.

“It was fine,” Tony said coldly.

Peter watched him worriedly, and bit a lip. Steve drew him close for a hug, and murmured in his ear. “It’s alright baby. He’ll get over it,” then kissed his hair. Peter sat uncertainly in the last chair available.

It was... weird. May and Ben had never fought- at least not like this. He didn’t really know what to do.

Thankfully Bruce and Cho came in.

“Oh good- everyone’s here!” Cho said eagerly, as she and Bruce settled behind her desk. “We can begin.”

“What’s this about anyway- did something come up in his blood work?” Steve asked.

“Nothing that was unexpected. His vitamin levels are all very low. I want him to start taking daily vitamins and we’ll retest in a week or so. If they haven’t come up by then, we’ll have to discuss options.”

“Like what?” Peter demanded, alarmed.

She smiled tightly at him. “Infusions, mainly. It won’t hurt, but you’ll have to sit in the medbay for an hour.”

Peter wilted in his chair. “More needles?” he protested.

“Only if the vitamins don’t work, right?” Tony interjected. “What should he be taking?”

“I’m going to prescribe some pregnancy vitamins- don’t be alarmed,” she said, her eyes twinkling now. “It’s just the cheapest and most comprehensive form available. You want gummies or pills?”

“Gummies?” Peter asked.

She nodded, and scribbled on a prescription pad, before ripping it off, and handing it to Tony.

“What about you Bruce?” Steve asked. “What news do you have?”

Bruce smiled faintly. “I think I’ve solved the Scent problem, Tony,” he said.

“Scent problem?” Steve asked.

Bruce nodded. “Tony wanted to know if I could modify Peter’s scent to make him smell like an alpha.”Peter could feel Steve bristle behind him. “What’s wrong with Peter’s scent?” he demanded.

“It’s not safe for him to smell like an omega,” Tony fired back. “He stands out too much. Plus all of his paperwork says that he’s an alpha. You think Fury won’t notice if Spider-Man smells like an omega?”

“I think it’s more important what _ Peter _ thinks,” Cho interrupted pointedly. “Peter?”

Peter considered them. “I... I could smell like an alpha?” he asked, awed. “Does that mean people won’t try to grab at me anymore? Or call me a girl?”

The adults winced.

“It’s possible,” Bruce said softly. “But you have to remember Peter- changing your scent won’t change who you are. It might even cause new problems. But it’s an option I think we should explore. Even if it’s not something you wear everyday.”

“But I could?” Peter pressed.

“If you want to,” Bruce said evenly.

“What _ is _ it?” Steve asked.

“It’s very simple- he would dab on a special perfume I made that replicates the underlying alpha musk. That way he would still smell like himself- but with an alpha undertone as it were.”

“But it’s hormone free?” Tony asked.

Bruce shrugged. “That was the easy part. Getting it so that he wouldn’t have to reapply it every hour was the hard bit.”

“Do I have to put it on more than once?” Peter asked.

“Every morning when you get up,” Bruce said. “And again if you’re going to be going out late at night- probably around dinner time. And you’ll definitely have to put it on again if you go swimming or get wet. You want to pick your scent?”

“I get to pick?”

Another gentle smile from Bruce. “Every alpha is a little bit different. And I wanted to be sure that I didn’t make one that you hated, or gave you headaches. So I’ve got three to choose from.”

He produced three glass perfume bottles and some cotton.

The first one made Peter cough and his eyes water- Steve had to put the damp cotton pad in a trashcan in the hall. Peter shuddered. “That was awful,” he complained, as Cho handed him a water bottle.

“You still want to try the others?” Bruce said.

“Why not? They can’t possibly be worse than that one,” Peter complained.

The second one was better, but only marginally. Peter wrinkled his nose at it.

The third one though- Peter held the cotton to his face and inhaled. “This one’s nice,” he said.

Bruce beamed at him. “I thought you might like that one. My sample size is a little limited. The first two were based on my lab assistant’s partner, and a willing subject from accounting. The last one is a watered down version of Steve.”

“You have my scent?” Steve asked, alarmed.

“There’s not much of you that isn’t catalogued,” Bruce said, amused. “And let me know if you start getting too much attention from omegas. The first batch we made sent two of my best assistants home and drove one into early heat.”

Steve blinked, then blushed deeply. “Really?”

“We made the scent 10 times stronger than it would be in real life the first time round. Thought that between the fixative and making it sprayable it would lose potency, but we were wrong. And now I can tell you with absolute certainty that Febreze makes the best de-scent products on the market,” Bruce said good humoredly. “And we can easily water it down even more. The point is to blend in, not smell like a super-alpha.”

Bruce handed Peter a small glass jar. “Just open the lid, tip a bit out onto your finger, then dab it on your neck over your glands and your wrists.”

“Here- let me show you-” Tony said, and took the bottle. “Just like perfume, right Bruce?”

“Sure.”

“So your scent glands are here- and here-” Tony said, dabbing a bit onto his finger and pressed firmly on Peter’s neck, right where his neck met his shoulder on each side “It’s okay if you miss them by a bit. Now to get your wrists-” he took Peter’s splints off and dabbed a bit on Peter’s left wrist. “Now rub your wrists together- small circles-”

Peter obeyed, and after a moment, scented his own wrist.

It was... weird? He still smelled like cinnamon rolls. But... cinnamon rolls... with coffee grounds maybe? And a hint of... locker room? The last part made his nose wrinkle a bit.

“You can’t take out the locker room part?” he complained.

Bruce chuckled. “Peter- that musk that you smell is the cornerstone of the alpha scent. So no. I can’t take out the locker room.”

“You think it smells like a locker room?” Steve asked, puzzled.

“All alphas smell like locker rooms,” Tony said dryly. “You put a bunch of sweaty alphas in a small enclosed space and it _ lingers _.”

Steve winced a bit. “I can see your point,” he conceded.

Tony put Peter’s splints back on.

“I also have this-” Bruce said, and produced a metal necklace. It looked a bit like Steve’s dog tags, except it had a bright red enameled medical symbol on one side, complete with a white snake on a staff. Peter took it, and examined it. On the other side, it was engraved with “ALLERGIES: ALL, NO MEDICATION” followed by “CALL DR CHO,” and three phone numbers.

“That is a medical alert necklace. The first number is a direct line to Cho’s personal cell phone. The other two are mine, and Jarvis. You are to wear it and _ never _ take it off- even when you’re in your spider suit, or showering. If something happens, it’ll let the medics know to not give you anything.”

Tony did the honors and helped fasten it for him around his neck, and Peter tucked it under his shirt.

“If the necklace doesn’t work out, we can switch to a bracelet once your splints are off,” Cho said.

Peter fingered it through his shirt- the metal was cool against his skin.

“I also want to re-raise the idea of an IUD,” Cho said. “I haven’t heard back from Mrs. Parker-”

Tony shook his head. “She’s got a lot on her plate right now,” he said stiffly.

“An IUD?” Peter asked, confused. “Isn’t that an explosive?”

“You’re thinking of an IED,” Banner said, amused. “An IUD is a form of birth control.”

Peter blinked, and made a face. “Why would I need that?”

“A pregnancy could be very dangerous for you, Peter. There just is no medical literature on male omegas past their first heat. _ None _. It’s possible you would carry to term but need a C-Section to deliver- which given your allergies, would be very dangerous to both you and the baby. And it’s possible that getting pregnant would make you very sick- there’s special hormones your body has to produce to keep a pregnancy. And if you miscarry-” Cho trailed off. “There’s all sorts of bleeding risks associated with that too. I think that - for now at least - a copper IUD would grant everyone a peace of mind.”

Peter stared at her, horrified. “I can get _ pregnant _?!” he demanded shrilly.

Everyone paused at that.

“Peter- you’re an omega,” Bruce said gently.

“But- I’m a _ boy _!” Peter protested.

“You have a uterus. And ovaries. Everything you’d need to get pregnant. So yes. It’s a possibility,” Cho said gently.

“_ WHAT? _” Peter said, clearly starting to panic.

Steve got to him first, and pulled him into his lap. “Hey- calm down. Shhhhh... take a breath-”

“I don’t- but... where would it even come OUT?? OH MY GOD- Holy shit! I don’t want that!”

“Shhh... it’s okay. It’s okay-” Steve tucked Peter’s face against his neck, and rumbled a bit.

Tony joined in, and rubbed his back. “It’s okay honey. You don’t EVER have to, alright? That’s what the IUD will make sure of, alright?”

“And if you ever change your mind, we can always take it out,” Cho said.

“WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT A BABY TO COME OUT OF THEIR BUTTHOLE?” Peter demanded somewhat hysterically, and Bruce covered his face and coughed a bit, badly covering a fit of laughter.

“Like I said, a C-Section- where we put you under and cut open your stomach- is a possibility-” Cho said, her eyes twinkling a bit.

Peter sputtered. “HOW IS THAT BETTER?”

“Calm down baby- you’re shouting in my ear,” Steve said, but he also sounded amused.

“I don’t WANT it!” Peter whined.

“It’s okay. Calm down. Breath for me honey-” Tony said. “I know it sounds scary. But it’s okay. This isn’t something you need to worry about for at least several years, alright? You don’t even have an alpha-”

“I feel I should point out that it’s possible that you could become pregnant even outside your heats,” Cho spoke up. “So I would highly advise condoms even if you have an IUD, just to be safe.”

Peter groaned into Steve’s neck. “This isn’t happening-” he complained.

“It’s alright,” Steve said, and kissed his forehead. “Remember our rules? No alphas outside of the pack without an escort? Especially for dates? That will help.”

“Daaad-” Peter whined, now for a completely different reason. Somewhere behind him, Tony whined a bit.

“_ Settle _ ,” Steve said firmly. “That’s _ enough _. You’re just upsetting yourself, and now you’re upsetting your mother.”

Peter whined, and buried his face into Steve’s neck, and Steve scent marked him while Tony held Peter’s hand.

It took a moment, but Peter finally settled.

“I’m sorry- I freaked out a little,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too- we thought you knew, kiddo,” Tony said softly.

“If that’s settled, I have some work to get back to,” Bruce said, standing. “But just so we’re safe- I think it’s best Peter is supervised for the next hour or two in case he has a reaction. We should be fine- but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“You want to come down and help me work on a new suit kiddo?” Tony asked.

Peter took one last inhale of Steve. “Okay,” he said, feeling a little small.

Steve scented his hair and hummed happily. “Now you even smell like you’re mine,” he rumbled, and Peter flushed a bit. “I do?”

“Lemme see-” Tony said, and scented a wrist. “Huh. You kinda do.”

“Good,” Steve said decisively, and kissed him again.

“Steve- would you let go of him already? I need to go work in the lab,” Tony complained.

“How about we talk about the IUD at the next blood draw?” Cho said. “We can test him for a copper allergy while we have him, and see if we can get those splints off.”

Tony nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Steve huffed and instead of letting go, inhaled deeply at his hair instead. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Peter pushed him off, giggling. “Daad- _ stop _!”

Steve snuck another kiss at his temple, before letting him go.

Tony glared at Steve for some reason. “He said ‘stop’, Steve-” he said sternly.

“And I did,” Steve said reasonably.

Tony pursed his lips and huffed-

“I’m fine Ma,” Peter said quietly, not wanting them to fight.

Tony hummed aggressively, glared, grabbed Peter's hand and turned to leave.

Peter mouthed “Sorry,” at a stricken-looking Steve, who waved him off, as Tony all but dragged him out.

“An alpha should stop when you say stop. _ Period _,” Tony groused as he walked through the medbay.

“But he did? And it’s just Dad. It’s okay,” Peter protested.

Tony turned his icy glare to Peter, who wilted. “No. No it’s not.”

“Ma-”

“Hush.”

Peter followed miserably to the elevator, and waited for the doors to close. “I’m sorry-” he tried, which seemed to flick a switch in the older omega.

“What? _ No! _ There’s nothing for you to be sorry for-” Tony babbled, and pulled him into a hug. “I just- it’s a bad example for you. Even if it’s your father- no means _ no _. I want you to know that.”

“I _ do _-” Peter protested.

“I just- I can’t have you hurt. Not right now, alright?” Tony said. “My heart can’t take it. Just... promise me you’ll be extra careful, alright?”

“I’m in the Tower-” Peter protested. “What could happen?”

Tony groaned. “Don’t jinx yourself. _ Please _. I just want you whole and well and rested for like a week. You think you can do that for me?”

Peter huffed. “I can!”

Tony sighed, and breathed deeply of Peter’s hair. “Good boy.”

**************************

Clint stomped past several baffled office workers, to what looked like a secretary. At least he assumed she was a secretary. She was an omega sitting at a large desk near the elevators with perfect hair.

“Papers from Tony Stark?” he asked.

She blinked up at him, then gaped. “Is that- oh my _ god _. CHERYL!” she shrieked.

Clint stood patiently, not sure if the reaction was to him or to the paperwork. He kinda hoped it was the first one.

Another woman- a beta by the look of her popped out from behind a cubicle divider, coffee mug in hand. Her eyes grew wide at the stack.

“Are those- are those SIGNED?” she asked in the same tone one generally asked if diamonds were real.

“I think so? He-” Clint grunted as she totally ignored him to flip randomly through the stack.

“THEY’RE SIGNED!” she shouted.

More heads popped up from the cubicle farm like groundhogs. All of them, he noted, were female.

“What?”

“Cheryl?”

“WE HAVE SIGNED PAPERS!” Cheryl roared.

Clint, in all of his years, even as that one time as an undercover stripper at Mardi Gras (don’t ask), had never experienced a shrieking female mob like this before. At least 10 of them descended like buzzards, picked him clean of paperwork in seconds, and left just as abruptly.

He was left standing in the foyer, feeling a little dazed.

“What just happened?” he asked the secretary.

She smiled indulgently at him, and rummaged in her desk. “You just made their day. They’ve been waiting for that paperwork for ages now- cookie?” she produced a chocolate chip cookie the size of Clint’s head, and held it out.

He blinked. Recalibrating.

“I’d rather have your number,” he said with a cheesy grin, and waggled his eyebrows.

5 minutes later he sauntered off, with half a cookie, a new number in his phone, and a promise to call her on Saturday. He whistled idly. This was looking to be a good day. And he hadn’t even called Kate yet.

He nibbled on his cookie in the elevator and got off on his floor. He kicked his boots off, sat down on his battered futon and put his feet up on the even more battered coffee table that was missing a leg. It looked like it’d been stolen from a college dorm room, mainly because that’s exactly what had happened.

He dug through a duffel bag on the side of the futon, pulling out various phones and tossing them back, cookie held in his mouth. He made a muffled sound of triumph when he found what he was looking for, and powered it on. He scrolled through numbers, selected one, and hit the call button.

He waited.

She picked up on the 4th ring. “You wanna work for the Avengers?” he asked.

She hung up on him.

He grinned at the phone, and waited. About a minute later it rang. He answered.

“Well?” he asked.

“It’s been MONTHS. And the first thing you do is pull a prank on me?” she ranted. “You’re an asshole Reuben, you know that?”

“Actually it’s Clint.”

“What?”

“I entered the competition under a fake name. Didn’t think they’d let me in otherwise,” Clint said, examining his nails. “My offer still stands.”

“Please. Like _ you’re _an Avenger,” she said dismissively. “You never would have won if you hadn’t bribed the judges-”

“Didn’t bribe-”

“You should have been _ disqualified _-”

“Still an Avenger.”

She huffed. “Okay then, ‘Mr. Avenger’,” she said sarcastically. “What the _ fuck _ \- do you _ want _?”

“You still workin’ for Dunkin’ Donuts?”

“_ Asshole. _”

Clint grunted. “I’m fairly sure that we have, like dental plans.”

There was a pause. She hung up on him.

He chuckled. He liked a challenge.

He pulled up venmo on his phone and sent her some money from “The Asshole”. Then he turned on some Netflix.

10 minutes later the phone rang. He answered it.

“Did you just venmo me 5,000 dollars?” she demanded.

“I dunno. You know a lot of assholes?”

She hung up on him again. He waited.

The phone rang again a few moments later. He answered. “Come to New York. It’s awful here.”

“Did you just send me another 5 thousand?” she demanded shrilly.

“There’s a limit. I couldn’t send it all at once,” he said patiently. “You’ll need it to book a flight.”

“You want me... to come to New York,” she said suspiciously. “After you ghosted me for two fucking months AND lied to me about your name AND cheated me out of the championship prize money?”

“Yep. And I need you here today. So, you’re gonna have to hustle.”

“I have a _ job _-”

“Uh huh,” Clint said as unkindly as possible.

“And... and... rent?”

“You won’t have any here.”

“And I have a _ cat _-”

“That’s actually perfect. He likes kids?”

She sputtered.

“Book a private jet. It should be more than enough. I need you here by-” he checked his watch, which read 2:12, “6.”

More sputtering. “I’m in Chicago!” she protested. “It’s at _ least _ a 3 hour flight-”

“You’ve got 10 thousand dollars. Make it happen. I’ll reimburse you whatever you spend when you get here.”

“I can’t just _ leave _-” she protested.

“Why not?”

More sputtering.

“I’ll tell you what- I’ll be generous. 6:15. Stark Tower. I’ll introduce you to Captain America.”

“You’re such an asshole!”

“I know. I’ll see you soon Ms. Bishop,” he said, and hung up. God, sometimes he just loved his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *little one
> 
> ** I have no idea. It’s a korean song. The best google could do is “Sharp secret surrounding, In this veil”. Whatever that means? The song is awesome though, you should listen to it. 
> 
> Soo... my life is a little bit on fire right now. Literally everyone in my family except for my grandmother is moving in the next few months. EVERYONE. So between painting and packing and tossing and trips to IKEA and Uhaul... my college classes have started up again. And my mother is apparently allergic to the concept of me having free time- (which is partially why I update at 3 am. I can only get guaranteed uninterrupted peace when she’s sleeping).
> 
> This is all to say that my update schedule is probably going to be even MORE erratic and spaced out than before. Which is just going to be horrible for *you* because there’s some cliff hangers coming up in the schedule. 
> 
> The good news? I know what the ending is going to be now. And let me tell you, it’s a doozy. Did you know that authors cackle evilly to themselves as they write things? Because I’ve been doing that while I’ve been filling out my outline for future chapters.
> 
> Even more good news? There’s going to be like a zillion chapters between now and the end- this “in story week” alone is just jam packed. Who knew that people who lay around waiting for an alarm to go off could be so fucking *busy*?? Because I didn’t! 
> 
> I’m exhausted just looking at the schedule. No wonder Tony’s cranky!


	47. In the Shadowed Valley II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA The rest of Tuesday
> 
> Tags:  
Fluff, recaps, minor Peter injury, world building, so much talking, Kate Bishop arrives

Tony and Peter hunched over a holotable, deep in debate. A see-through version of the Iron Man suit hung in mid-air in front of them.

“But if you round it _ here _-” Peter said, pointing to a spot on the mid-back. “You’d naturally roll to your side, and you wouldn’t get stuck on your back-”

Tony considered, stroking his beard. “I considered that, but then you lose some the effectiveness of the added plate that I put in-”

He waved a hand and some numbers popped up. “See? You’d lose at least 8% in shock absorption alone-”

“So? Don’t get shot in the back then.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “That’s it? No reorganizing the absorption matrix? No recalibrating anything? Just- don’t get shot in the back?” he demanded sarcastically.

“It’s better than ‘don’t fall over’,” Peter shot back. “Which statistically, I think, is more likely to happen-”

“More likely-?” Tony protested, outraged.

Peter ignored him. “And it’s only 8%! Who cares! It’s still better than the previous model, right?”

Tony considered, and frowned. “But then I’d have a rounded back,” he complained.

Peter stared at him for a beat. “Is this because you think it’ll make you look fat?” he asked, incredulously.

Tony sputtered. “I did _ not _ say that-”

“Because you’ll only see it from the side-” Peter pointed out, rotating the model. “And you already have that extended butt plate thing-”

“Forgive me sirs,” Jarvis said dryly from the ceiling. “But Mrs. Parker is calling.”

Tony glowered sarcastically at Peter before replying. “Pipe her through J.”

“Mr. Stark?” May asked.

“You’re on speaker with me and Peter,” Tony said. “How’s it going?”

“Everything’s great! I was hoping I could get Peter this Friday. He’s not too busy with schoolwork is he?”

Tony opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a second. “What? No! Friday’s fine.”

“Are we gonna do something Aunt May?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Just a quiet family dinner. I thought we might even live a little and play a board game,” May said cheerfully.

Peter beamed at the ceiling. “Can we do Thai?” he asked hopefully.

“I was thinking more like spaghetti,” May said. “With garlic bread?”

Peter hesitated. “Alright,” he said. If it meant time with May he’d take it. Hopefully this time she wouldn’t burn the meatballs. “Can I spend the night?”

“Of course! I’ve got to go into work at noon on Saturday, though-”

“I can have someone pick him up,” Tony said. “Do you have a blender? We’ve been giving him special smoothies to up his calories. He should have one before bed.”

“Tony-” Peter hissed in protest.

“I think I might have one in the garage,” May mused. “I’d have to look. And if you need a blender, Peter, I’ll get one. I don’t want you messing up your routine. Anything else he needs?”

Tony eyed him. “Are you going to pack your bear?” he asked.

Peter wondered if it was possible to sink through the floor. “What- no!” he snapped indignantly.

“Bear?” May asked, puzzled.

“Peter’s been nesting lately. Which is good- it’s good for him. But he’s probably going to need some extra blankets and pillows on his bed at night. I got him this bear he can cuddle for his room-”

“Oh? Do I need to dig out Mr. Sprinkles?” May asked, teasing. “I still have him-”

“You still have Mr. Sprinkles?” Peter asked hopefully, before remembering he was 15 god damn it, and 15 year olds didn’t need fucking bears- “I mean- no! No I don’t need Mr. Sprinkles!” he scowled at the ceiling.

“Mr. Sprinkles?” Tony asked, amused.

“Ben and I got him this white bear when he first came home with us. He had bits of color on him like a funfetti cake,” May said, reminiscing. “They came off in the wash. Peter was _ so _ upset- he colored on him with markers to try to fix him-”

“I put him away when I was NINE, May!” Peter protested.

“And I kept him in case you changed your mind and needed him again,” May said. “I’ll get him down.”

“Maaay-” Peter whined.

“What he means is ‘thank you’,” Tony said, with a pointed look. Peter huffed, but said “Thank you May,” as tonelessly as possible.

“So what time do you want him?” Tony asked.

“How’s 2 o’clock?”

Tony hesitated, “What time is that interview J?” he asked.

“It’s scheduled for 1 pm sir,” Jarvis said.

“Can you take him at 12:30? I’d rather he be out of the building while I have a reporter roaming around.”

“I can do that,” she said.

“I’ll make sure he has lunch before he comes over,” Tony said, twirling a pen with his fingers. “Make sure to remind me to pack his vitamins, J?”

“You would have to get them from the pharmacy first, sir,” Jarvis said dryly.

Tony blinked, and patting his pockets, came up with the prescription. He sighed with disgust. “Right. Forgot.”

“Is he taking a particular kind? I’ve got some here at the house,” May said.

Tony peered at the prescription. “It’s ah... PrimaCare One.”

There was a pause.

“Tony, that’s a _ prenatal _ vitamin-” May said sharply.

“Cho said it’s just cheaper,” Peter said anxiously. “I’m _ not _-” his voice squeaked then broke. “I mean-”

“Hey- calm down. It’s okay. Take a breath,” Tony took his hand. “We know you’re not. And he’s right. Cho said it’s just more comprehensive or something.”

“Well, if that’s what the doctor wants...” May said. “I certainly don’t have any of _ those _ in the house though,” she chuckled.

“So we’ll make sure we pack it,” Tony said, and eyed Peter speculatively. “I’m not forgetting anything, am I?”

“My alpha scent?” Peter asked. “You took it from Dr. Banner-”

More patting of pockets. “Jarvis?” Tony asked, exasperated.

“It is next to the coffee pot, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Alpha scent?” May asked, baffled.

“Dr. Banner made me some stuff so I’ll smell like an alpha,” Peter said excitedly.

There was another long pause from May. “Are you sure you want to do that honey?” she asked worriedly. “That sounds... drastic-”

“It’s basically a perfume. If he doesn't like it he can just not put it on or take a shower. Nothing permanent,” Tony said hurriedly. “I just wanted him to have the option. Plus we’ve got some people I’d rather not know he’s an omega and-” he sighed. “It’s complicated. Politics, that sort of thing.”

“If that’s what you want Peter-” May said guardedly.

“Forgive me sir,” Jarvis said, “But there is a situation with the Sergeant and the Lady Barnes that I believe requires your immediate attention.”

Tony sighed, and rubbed his face. “Sorry May-”

“No no, it’s alright. Sounds like you’re busy,” May said, amused. “I’ll see you on Friday kiddo. We can talk then. Love you!”

“Love you too!”

There was a clicking noise- she’d hung up.

“What do they need, J?” Tony asked.

“I believe there has been a serious communications error, but the Sergeant is too upset to listen-”

Tony muttered several choice swears under his breath. “I’ll be there in a second. Tell Bucky to cool it.”

“Yes sir.”

Tony turned his glare to Peter, who squirmed a bit. “What?!” Peter demanded defensively.

“You... I want you- you remember all those proposals we went through this morning?”

“Yeah?”

“Make one up for the modification of the suit like you’ve been suggesting. I expect numbers and simulation outcomes. I also want a schematic. Jarvis can help you make a blueprint that’s compliant with Stark Industries specs.”

Peter sputtered. “Can’t I just do the holo-”

“Nope. Consider this homework. Jarvis, make sure that getting some tutors are on a list somewhere,” Tony said, exasperated.

“I have added it to the List, sir,” Jarvis said, sounding amused.

“In the meantime, spin up another Mark 35 would you J?”

“Sir, I must protest. You haven’t solved the turtling issue-”

“I’ll just be sure not to fall over,” Tony said dismissively. “It’ll be fine- and you- I don’t want you here unsupervised. So out- go start work on the project, you can do it in your room,” Tony said, shooing him.

Peter squawked indignantly. “Why? It’s just paperwork, right? Paperwork can’t explode-” he whined.

“Nope. Not risking it. Grab your scent on the way out- come on-”

Peter sputtered and protested, but Tony was relentless and shepherded him out all the way to the elevator.

“Consider it due on Monday,” Tony said archly when they reached Peter’s floor. He paused. “I also want a list of any ideas you have for upgrades to the phone I gave you.”

Peter groaned. “Really?”

“Yep. Hup to it Parker. And I expect more than ‘a better camera’,” he said sarcastically.

Peter rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue as the elevator closed and whisked Tony away. Peter dramatically staggered over to his bed and collapsed face down on it. He oophed a bit as he landed.

After a couple of minutes, he deigned to roll over, winced as the perfume bottle dug into his leg, dug it out and put it on his side table.

He stared at the ceiling for a bit.

“What’s the specs for a blueprint design, Jarvis?” he asked.

20 minutes later, he was regretting asking. The text on his Stark Pad was blurring together. There seemed to be hundreds of rules for everything from what font he had to use to how thick the lines were to be- and every system type had to be a different, extremely specific color.

He groaned and rubbed his face. He could feel a headache coming on. He’d been reading for what felt like the _ entire _ day. And worse- he’d been cooped up inside for god knows how long.

He stared at the dresser where he knew his spider suit was.

Surely... he could at least- you know. Put it on. Stand on the ceiling for a few minutes? Maybe? What could it hurt?

He opened the drawer and pulled out the suit. He was halfway out of his pants when Jarvis spoke up.

“Young Master, I’m afraid that if you continue, I will be forced to report this incident. You are not to do any ‘spidering’ type activities until further notice due to your poor health.”

Peter froze. “You’re gonna snitch on me?” he demanded, furious.

“I apologize. However, your health is a priority one command. I must report if you engage in activities that may lead to you coming to harm.”

Peter scowled at the ceiling. He pointedly, (and dramatically) made a show of pulling up his pants, folding up the suit, putting it back, and closing the drawer.

“Happy now?” he demanded.

“Ecstatic,” Jarvis said dryly. “I treasure the moments when you are not injured.”

Peter scowled even harder at the ceiling. He wasn’t even sure if Jarvis could make jokes, which somehow made the statement even worse.

He flopped dramatically back onto his bed, for want of anything else to do. He kicked his feet idly.

“What’s Dad doing?” he asked.

“The Captain is currently napping.”

Peter considered this. He _ could _ go and join him. Get some snuggles in. Steve would no doubt welcome him- wherever he was.

He sighed and kicked his feet some more. He just... was _ tired _of napping. It seemed to be all that he did anymore. Drink his shake, take a nap. Freak out, take his spray- take a nap. Exist, and nap.

Maybe he could go walk around the Tower? He hadn’t been down to the public area in ages. Maybe he could look at the restaurants?

Yeah. That sounded like an idea. He dug through various pants until he found his black card, and bounced into the elevator, nearly falling out of his slides. (Where were his _ shoes _? He should find them before he went to May’s.)

“Main public floor, Jarvis!” he chirped.

“I apologize Young Master- but you require an escort to access the public floors. Would you like to go to the common floor?”

Peter stared at the ceiling, mouth agape. Huffed. “No,” he growled, and walked out of the elevator.

Another dramatic fall onto his bed. He groaned into a pillow.

“What’s Nat doing?” he asked eventually.

“She is currently out of the Tower,” Jarvis said primly, which meant that Peter didn’t have Clearance to Know.

Another dramatic sigh. Clint maybe?

He hesitated. Clint... he had a feeling if he tried to hang out with Clint he’d wind up either doing the man’s paperwork or polishing knives or something. Which wasn’t exactly Peter’s definition of a good time.

He sighed dramatically, rolled over- and his eye caught on the door to the emergency stairwell. What was that Dad had said? He could use the palm locks to get to empty floors?

_ Huh. _

“Jarvis, which floors would I have access to through the palm locks?”

He took the stairs instead of the elevator to make it more of an adventure and to get some energy out. The first floor he investigated was just as Jarvis said it was- “empty”. There was literally nothing but a big open space. There were some empty cardboard boxes and a beanbag chair (?) on the other side of the floor. He sat in it for a few moments. It was nice.

He made a mental note to steal it for later.

The second floor was even emptier- just dust on the floor.

The third floor, marked “storage” was where he hit real paydirt. He flicked on a light switch, blinked, and then gazed up in terror and awe at the one story tall mural? Poster? Of Captain America in his 1940s costume pointing dramatically at the viewer with the words “I want YOU to buy War Bonds now!” on it. Thankfully it was on the far wall, and not right in his face otherwise Peter would have probably peed himself a little.

He shook himself and looked around. Everywhere that didn’t block the view of the poster was filled with shelving racks and boxes. He poked around a bit. There were... things on the shelves. All of them had little labels on them attached with a little bit of twine. It reminded him a bit of toe tags that they put on dead people in the movies. There didn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason for them being there- the objects ranged from “Black Hair Comb, plastic,” to “Chair, wood”, to “Tent, canvas.”

He stared at the chair for at least 5 minutes, examining it without touching it, confused as to why in the world it was even _ here _ . It wasn’t even a _ nice _ chair. In fact, it didn’t even seem like a proper chair at all- someone had taken two thin broom handles, nailed them to what looked like a broken bar stool, then nailed planks from a milk crate (it still had the logo on it) to the broom handles to make a back. It wasn’t even nailed in properly. He counted at least 3 nails that stuck out and had been bent over instead of removed or hammered in straight in the first place.

It wasn’t until he found “Pants, blue cotton,” and “Gloves, red leather,” that he started to get suspicious. He stared at the gloves, then back at the giant fucking poster thing of Steve. Back at the gloves, which were an exact match.

Two shelves, and a file cabinet later, his suspicions were confirmed when he found a carefully cataloged collection of random paper work with just one thing in common: Steve Roger’s signature.

Were all of these things... Dad’s?

Dad didn’t exactly strike him as the sort of person who would keep random things like tents and combs with paper tags attached documenting his life.

Were they... Ma’s? It was, after all, his tower.

He looked around uneasily, suddenly repulsed. This... this didn’t feel right for some reason.

It occurred to him that the only thing that was missing were half burned candles- like how a stalker covered his walls with pictures of some poor girl and burned candles in front of it-

Holy shit- this was totally a _ shrine _.

Ma had a shine... of _ Dad _?

He stepped back and took in the row after row of shelving units. Filled with... stuff.

_ Oh god- why couldn’t Ma just have a weird sex toy collection like a normal weird person? _

He fled.

The next floor was thankfully Captain America artifact free, for which he was extremely grateful. He didn’t think he could handle Ma having TWO floors dedicated as a shrine to his mate. Just the one was more than enough, thank you very much.

This one was also filled with boxes, and shelves, but the boxes thankfully contained normal people things like beakers packed in crinkly paper and the shelves held things like mattresses and what looked like workbench tops? There were even a number of stuffed chairs and what looked like a couple of couches shoved into a corner- they all had upside down night stands and coffee tables on them and were covered in plastic. They also looked too fancy to be comfortable.

Some more poking revealed boxes of table legs and screws, and even one of coffee cups with “Stark Tech” logos on them. This must be where they kept excess lab equipment and random housing stuff, he realized.

“Hey Jarvis? Can I take any of this stuff?” he asked.

There was no answer.

“Jarvis?”

Silence.

_ Huh. _

He looked around, kicked off his slides, and scaled a shelving unit like a monkey until he reached the top. He stood on top of the shelving unit and hopped a bit until he stuck to the ceiling from a hand.

He waited.

Nothing.

He unstuck, and dropped back down, then proceeded to hop on one leg on the very edge of the board. The entire shelving unit shook, and he had to windmill his arms a bit to keep from falling.

He waited with baited breath.

Still nothing.

He grinned. Jarvis couldn’t SEE HIM here.

FUCK YEAH.

He started small- partially disassembling the tops of some shelving units and rearranging them so that he had a beam going across the aisle, and since he’d promised Tony that he’d be careful he piled not one but TWO mattresses below him.

The first cherry drop, done from a mere 12 feet onto the mattresses was nice, but nothing earth shattering. He shrieked with terrified laughter when he bounced higher than he’d anticipated- and only barely managed to not bounce off the mattress stack.

He added a couple more mattresses and some pillows so that if he rolled he wouldn’t go straight into a shelving unit.

By the fifth time he’d done it he was out of breath and decided to take a break. It almost made him angry - seriously- he was out of breath already? He used to be able to swing halfway across New York and barely break a sweat.

He called Ned while he waited for his lungs to stop burning.

“You aren’t dead!” Ned yelled into the phone.

Peter winced. “Sorry man, I was...” he considered the past week, “High?”

There was a bit of silence. “You mean like... high in the tower?” Ned asked, audibly confused.

Peter rubbed his face. “I like... broke my arms, and the doctor gave me this stuff and honestly I think I lost a few days somewhere.”

“Broke your arms? What did you _ do _?”

“I got in a fight with an MRI machine?”

“Peter- _ what _\- I’ve SEEN you stand in front of a bus before. An MRI shouldn’t have broken your arms.”

“Yeah- so... um- So... it turns out that I’ve not been eating enough? Like, a lot not enough? And so my bones are like... kinda fucked up now we think? And that’s why I went into heat early? And why I’ve been sick?”

“Are you okay?” Ned asked, genuinely concerned and alarmed.

“They’re having me eat a lot. And they put me on vitamins. And I’ve been sleeping a lot too- Dad says it’s because I’m healing. They think I should be okay.”

There was a pause. “Peter? Are you- are sure you’re okay? Your dad died in a plane crash, ages ago- remember?” Ned said. He sounded like he was talking to someone about to jump off something really high.

Peter felt his face turn the shade of a tomato, and his brain rebooted. Yeah. “Um... I kinda call Steve ‘Dad’ now?” he tried.

Another pause. “WHAT?!”

“I know! I didn’t even know I was doing it until this past Sunday when I called him ‘Dad’ at the dinner table and everyone made a big deal about it,” Peter said. “But he’s cool with it- Tony even said something about him being my father... oh! I call Tony ‘Ma’ now. I don’t think he’s noticed though.”

“You call Iron Man... ‘ma’?” Ned asked, awed, then burst into laughter. Peter joined in on the giggles.

“Really?? How could he not notice? He’s not offended?” Ned probed.

Peter shrugged. “Dad started it.”

More laughter. “Dude. What is even your LIFE right now?”

“I know, right?”

“When are you coming back to school? You were here that one day and then you fell off the face of the earth-”

Peter winced a bit at the memory. “I... sorta got confused and walked to Brooklyn?” he said uncertainly. “I think? I might have had a seizure or something...” he muttered. “Or was that before?” he couldn’t remember. After a while, the horribleness all just sort of... merged together.

“A _ seizure _ ? _ Peter _?!”

“It’s okay! Relax! I’m feeling a lot better now. I have a doctor that takes blood samples practically every day,” Peter complained. “And I’ve been with people every day to- today’s the first day I’ve been by myself, actually.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine. I just have these splints on. My bones don’t even hurt anymore or anything.”

“So I’ll see you sometime this week?” Ned said hopefully.

Peter winced. “Ah- actually, Ma and May have decided to pull me for the rest of the year.”

“Really?” Ned whined. “It’s so boring without you!”

“It can’t be that boring-” Peter protested.

“Dude- the _ only _ thing going on at school is that Flash quit the football team. He like got tackled during a practice and his mom made him quit. Other than that- there’s _ nothing _.”

“At least you get to like, leave the house,” Peter complained back, irritated by the mention of Flash.

“They’re not letting you leave the tower?” Ned asked.

“I can’t even go to the public floors without an escort, apparently- which I don’t really get. Bruce got me this medical necklace thing so that if something were to happen they’d know to not give me anything. What’s the point of wearing it if I’ll never be in a situation to use it?”

“It won’t be for forever, right?” Ned attempted. “I mean- they have to let you out _ sometime _.”

Peter sighed. “I guess?”

They talked for a while. Ned was saving up for the new Millennium Falcon Lego set. It was $800 and Ned said he was hoping he’d get some money from his grandmas for his upcoming birthday. “That’s like... $200 right there,” Ned said.

Peter couldn’t remember how much money he had- it was at May’s. He’d have to check when he went over on Friday.

“Do you think you can go see the new John Wick with me? It’s coming out in like 3 weeks.”

“I hope so,” Peter lamented. “We might have to take someone with us through.”

“What- you mean like one of my parents?”

“Probably one of the avengers-” Peter said uncertainly. “Ma is kinda... protective of me lately.”

“REALLY? Who do you think it’d be?”

Peter considered. Who would take him to a crowded, dark movie theater to see a movie with definite explosions and probable cursing?

“Clint... maybe?” he said. “But probably Darcy. She likes action movies, and Keanu _ is _ kinda hot-”

“Who’s Darcy?”

Peter blinked. Shit. Was that public yet?

“She’s new?” he said softly.

“What- she’s like Black Widow or something?” Ned asked excitedly.

Peter looked around, even though it was an empty floor and Jarvis wasn’t installed. “Okay, so- I don’t think it’s public yet, so you have to _ promise _ me you’ll keep it a secret, okay?”

“Oh?” Ned’s voice went up several octaves. “I can keep a secret!”

“So... Darcy came over because her hotel got destroyed in like that weird storm thing that happened a couple of weeks ago? Because she knew Natasha- and it turned out that she was the fated mate of the Winter Soldier. So... she’s staying here at the tower now.”

There was a pause. “That’s it?” Ned asked, disappointed. “She doesn’t do anything cool?”

Peter blinked. “_ Dude _ \- she yells at the _ Winter Soldier _ and hits him with like rolled up magazines.”

Another pause. “Wow,” Ned breathed. “And he like... takes it?”

“He’s too busy trying to make out with her to yell back I think,” Peter said. “I had breakfast with them the other day and I’m lucky they didn’t break the kitchen table again,” he complained.

“They broke the kitchen table?” Ned asked, puzzled.

“Apparently they had sex on it or something. Darcy yelled at him about it in the _ middle _ of IKEA.”

“IKEA? Wait- so those pictures are _ real _?”

“What pictures?”

“Dude- google, ‘avengers at IKEA’- everyone’s saying it had to be photoshopped-”

Peter googled. “Oh my god- that’s from when we went to IKEA!” he said, and scrolled. “That’s me! Has anyone said anything about it at school?”

“What- you’re in it? _ Where _?”

“Between Tony and Natasha! That’s me!”

“Really? Huh... you’re kinda blurry to be honest, dude.”

“That’s totally me!” Peter said, slightly panicking.

“Well, no-one cares. Everyone wants to know who the girl is-”

“That’s Darcy-”

“Really? _ That’s _ his fated mate?” Ned asked, baffled.

“What’s wrong with Darcy?” Peter demanded.

“Nothing! I just... thought she’d be hotter?”

Peter considered the picture. “I don’t think she had makeup on that day,” he said. “But she’s like, really cool man. She helped me dye my hair blue.”

“_You dyed your hair _?” Ned demanded.

Peter, after some arguing, sent him a selfie.

“Wow. That’s... really blue. Why blue though?”

That brought up the whole... ‘Gus’ mess.

“If they get married, will that make him your step-dad?” Ned asked.

“What- no! May’s my Aunt, remember?”

“Step-Uncle then? Is that even a thing?”

“He has two kids. Girls I think,” Peter said, trying to step away from the mangled mutated mess of his family tree. He also didn’t like the thought of May marrying again. It made him feel slightly nauseous.

“Wow. Do you think they’ll be hot?”

Peter sputtered. “NED?! I don’t even know how old they are-” he sputtered, scolding..

“Step sisters are _ always _ hot though. It’s like a law of the universe.”

“What? I- I’m not going to _ sleep _ with them- that’s just _ weird _-”

“Well, I mean- _ you’re _ not going to sleep with them obviously, because you’re like... gay. But _ I’m _ not gay-”

“I think one of them is like... super little though. Don’t be creepy.”

“I’m just _ saying _-”

“And I’m not gay, Ned.” Peter protested.

There was a pause. “I thought you liked alphas though.”

“Well, yeah. But I’m an omega. Omegas like alphas.”

“But... you’re a dude?”

There was another pause, this time from Peter. “I thought being gay referred to your secondary gender though,” he said finally. “Omegas going for female alphas... I mean... that’s not gay is it?”

Another pause.

“It’s a little gay?” Ned said, unsure. “Hang on. I’ll check pornhub.”

“NED!”

“What? It’s like literally their _ job _ to know this-”

“I’m not talking to you while you’re going on pornhub,” Peter said firmly.

“Hang on... okay so... Betas and alphas- gay.”

Peter sighed.

“And... alphas and alphas, _ definitely _ gay-”

“Wait... they have an alpha on alpha section?” Peter asked, with just a little too much interest.

There was a pause. “Dude. It’s _ porn hub _. Also- don’t look it up while I’m talking to you. I’m here for strict research purposes only-”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Neeed-”

“Okay, okay... huh - female alphas and omegas are apparently in the straight section.”

“What do they have omegas and omegas as?” Peter asked, curious.

“Oh, that has its own section,” Ned said without hesitation. “I read the other day that it’s the most popular search term in like 10 states.”

“Huh,” Peter said, choosing to ignore Ned’s questionable reading sources.

“So... I guess you’re right? You’re not gay?” Ned said, unsure. “I dunno man. I just... my gut says it’s at least a _ little _ gay-”

Peter scowled. “I have _ heats _, Ned. It’s NOT gay for me to want an alpha-”

“Okay, okay-” Ned said. “Not gay then.”

Another pause in the conversation.

“But if your not-step-sister is totally hot, you _ will _ introduce me, right-”

“NED!”

***************************

Tony swanned into the conference room to find several pensive lawyers very professionally not quite cowering behind their leather three ring binders while a very tense Bucky stalked back and forth across the room, glowering at them. The scent of ‘upset alpha’ was almost overwhelming.

“BUCKY!” Tony snapped, shocked and appalled by his behavior.

Bucky stopped to glare at him. “Did you know about this?” he demanded, angrily pointing a finger at him.

Tony’s eyes widened, taking in the finger and he glared right back. “YOU will watch your mother fucking TONE when you talk to me, _ alpha _ -” he snapped. “Or I will be talking to Steve about your attitude. Am I _ clear _?”

Bucky blinked. Stared at him incredulously. Tony had never pulled rank on him before, and was obviously thrown for a loop.

“Not only that, but you are _ upsetting _ Darcy right now-” Tony said cuttingly, gesturing at the omega, who was clutching the arms of her chair and looking pale. “So you need to _ cut it out _.”

Bucky looked at her- really looked at her for apparently the first time and visibly crumpled. “Omega-” he said sadly.

“Go take a walk-” Tony barked. “Let me sort this out.”

Bucky hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave Darcy.

“Alpha!” Tony barked sharply.

Bucky fled, not quite slamming the door behind him.

Tony took a breath. Counted in his head to 10.

“Does anyone want to tell me what’s going on?” he demanded.

“To be honest sir, I’m not quite sure-” what was obviously the head lawyer said. “We were just going over the standard mating contract and prenup and he got upset-”

Tony rubbed his face, and groaned a little. “And let me guess. You let him know the contract was for ‘in case Darcy left’,” he said dourly. “No doubt threw in a few ‘for her own protection’, for good measure, right?”

The lawyer hesitated. “We might have suggested-”

Tony sighed heavily. “No- no- you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s a... 1920’s alpha thing,” Tony said, waving a hand dismissively, and kicked himself for not seeing this coming. “Apparently they didn’t have prenups or contracts back then? You insulted him, made him think that you thought that he couldn’t take care of her or something.”

“Tony?” Darcy said uncertainly. “I tried to explain- but he just-”

Tony shook his head. “Nope. Wrong approach. Trust me, I went through all of this with Steve. You need to go tell him what an amazing alpha he is and how mind blowing you think his knot is. Go purr for him, that sort of thing. He’ll eat it up. Go on- shoo,” Tony urged her up and out of the room. “No fucking in an empty conference room though- I don’t pay the cleaners enough for that- and come back when he’s calmed down.”

Darcy scowled at him but went after her alpha.

He looked around. “Is there anyone from PR here?” he asked.

“Ah no-”

He sighed. “Jarvis? Remind me- it was Theo who did me and Steve’s mating announcement, right?” he asked idly.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Is she in right now?”

“Yes sir.”

“Have her come down and join us, would you? We’ll knock this out all in one go.”

Theo, ever the professional, was there in 5 minutes.

“Tony!” the tiny black omega exclaimed, and Tony gratefully clasped her hands in his. She had her hair in these adorable puffs, one on each side of her head, he noted. Sometimes he wondered how she even managed with all of that hair- he could barely manage his most days.

“Theo- sweetheart, miracle worker-” Tony gushed. He was taller than her by several inches even without his lifts, and somehow she still managed to radiate a confidence that rivaled his own. They exchanged air kisses over their checks.

She gave him a knowing smile that was highlighted by her neon pink lipstick. “Tony- just tell me straight- what did you break now?”

“Nothing. You remember when Steve got upset about the mating contract and prenup?”

She blinked, clearly not expecting this track. “I remember talking your alpha off a ledge, yes,” she said, amused. “Is it happening again?”

“Not with Steve, no. But we’ve got another alpha from the 20s who’s secretly super sensitive and-”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You found ANOTHER one?” she asked incredulously.

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t have a freezer filled with them, I swear,” he said, resigned. “I just keep _ finding _ them- and he was so sad, Theo. I couldn’t NOT take him in-”

She sighed. “I take it he’s of the sorrowful eyes persuasion-” she said.

“Not _ all _ the time-” Tony protested. “Sometimes he does this murder strut thing- and he has this metal arm-”

She shook her head. “You’ve got to stop collecting sad alphas, Tony. It’s not healthy.”

“He’s kinda Steve’s brother, though?” Tony said.

She blinked at him again, taking it in. “So what is he misunderstanding?”

“Remember how Steve freaked out over the mating contract?” Tony repeated himself.

“_Tony, _ ” she playfully scolded him. “You can’t be in a mating contract with more than one alpha- that’s so several centuries ago, and it’s just plain selfish- you have to leave _ some _ of the good ones for the rest of us- even _ if _ they’re sad-”

“No, no- I’m not mating him- thank god. He found his fated mate and it’s sappy and wonderful and the whole thing is vomit inducing, it’s so happy,” Tony said flippantly. “But he’s freaking out and I was hoping you could do the talking thing. You did it so well last time. And we might need another mating announcement. He’s an Avenger and she has family that’s apparently made up entirely of jealous bitches-”

“And the whole ‘mating registration is officially a public record’ thing might be a problem with the press?”

“_Exactly!_”

Thankfully, Tony was able to give her the briefest overview of Bucky’s whole “past bad guy/present day hero” background before the alpha got back. He slunk in like a willful child plotting to survive a whipping with as much pride as possible left intact.

Darcy trailed in behind him, and managed to coax him into a chair. He pulled her into his lap, and glared protectively at the gathered lawyers. He at least wasn’t growling, Tony noted with resigned relief.

Theo, being the bravest person in the room, stood over him beaming like some sort of nuclear powered sun lamp.

“Mr. Barnes!” she emoted at him. “I’m so glad to meet you, Tony has told me all about you finding your fated mate! Congratulations- how exciting!” she said, clapping with happiness like a little girl and still somehow looking dignified. “And you must be Darcy-” she gushed, carefully not touching either of them.

Darcy flushed a bit. It was clear she didn’t know how to react to the hurricane that was Happy Omega Theo. She wielded her softness like a well worn club, and opponents soon found themselves either happily trailing along behind her or in serious danger of being strangled by those around her. It was amazing, and after he first met her some years ago, he made sure she was well paid lest she decide to start taking over small countries for fun or by accident. Or worse- work for someone else.

“What a _wonderful _story!” Theo gushed. “Love across time and ages! I haven’t heard a decent one like that since I was a child! It’s going to play _so_ _well_ when you choose to announce!”

Bucky snuck a desperate glance at Tony, who smiled indulgently at him. “Guys- this is Theo. She did Steve’s and my announcement. She works for me in PR.”

“That’s public relations. I make sure that everyone gets _ some _ happy press stories. It’s never a bad thing to have the public at least like you. And I can tell you, you’re going to have scripting agents beating down your door for the rights to your story when you announce. You could make some decent money with the right lawyer there.”

Bucky looked lost, while Darcy looked scandalized. “Movies?” she squeaked.

“Definitely- and book deals too. A pretty little omega from Everywhere, USA finding her fated mate in a handsome capable war hero who was frozen for god knows how long?” Theo scoffed. “I think you could write yourself a check there, and the directors will have cage matches over who gets to film it. But that’s for another time. You have to get mated first- officially anyway.”

Bucky raised his hackles, but not as much as Tony had expected. Theo and her flattery magic were working.

_ Thank god. _

“Now- now- don’t be such a sour puss,” Theo coaxed. “I know that signing legal things is the least favorite part of anyone’s day but the law says that _ all _ alphas and omegas _ have _ to sign a contract, so it’s best to just smile and get it over with.”

Bucky glanced furtively at Tony. “What?” he asked, visibly confused. “What does she mean?”

“Theo explains this so much better. Theo?”

“This is my favorite subject. Omega’s Liberation- oh, that was a time. My mother was involved in that. Burned her bra and everything right in the middle of Central Park, and marched on Wall Street naked. Her picture made it to the cover of the New York Times. She was so proud of that-” she said, reminiscing fondly. “They let us have our own bank accounts after that, so long as we all agreed to put our clothes back on, and stop having heats in the parks. Which is just as well, really. Being rained on in the middle of your heat _ sounds _ amazing but just means you wind up wet and cold-”

Bucky stared at her, horrified. “What?” he squeaked.

“Don’t be so paternalistic,” she scolded. “Omegas are people too. We have rights now. You lot can’t just swan off and leave us with pups hanging from our teats to go gambling in France or whatever it is you do,” she said flippantly. “That’s what the mating contract is for. It’s so that if something happens- either one of you can break it off and the government can make sure Darcy and the pups are taken care of. Or if you die, there will be a stipend to augment whatever the government gives widows. There’s no packs left- well, not many- any more. _ Someone _ has to make sure that omegas aren’t left wandering the streets destitute because _ some _ alphas are idiots.”

She smiled at him. “But it won’t matter, will it? You’re fated. Which means it’s just a piece of paper you have to sign like you do for the StarkTunes terms of agreement. And then afterwards, Darcy and I can spend several happy hours figuring out what colors her mother _ absolutely has _ to wear to the Mating Ceremony so she won’t show up,” Theo said cheerfully, and beamed at Darcy.

Bucky meanwhile, was frowning thoughtfully at the mating contract. “There’s a stipend?” he asked cautiously.

Theo gave the world's biggest wink to Darcy over Bucky’s oblivious head.

“Lawyers?” Theo prodded. “Go on.”

“Ah, of course-” a lawyer cleared his throat. “A portion of your salary- and her salary should she choose to do so- will be put aside into a government approved bank account. It’ll be automatically deducted from any and all paychecks, so you won’t have to worry about keeping track of anything. It can be accessed by the omega in the event of her alpha’s death, or borrowed against for the sake of the education of any and all pups. The default term is 3%, but we can make it higher if you so choose.”

“And it’ll go to Darcy? No one else can touch it?”

“Absolutely. Even if you die in debt, creditors can’t touch it,” the lawyer reassured him.

Bucky looked at the paper in front of him with something approaching respect.

“See? Not so bad, is it? I knew you’d like that. All the good alphas do,” Theo cooed, and Bucky had the decency to blush.

“_I told you _ you were over reacting,” Darcy said softly, and kissed his temple. “It’s standard. I swear.”

Bucky shifted a bit, and glanced at Tony. “So- it’s not- it’s not because of my time with Hydra?” he asked softly, hugging Darcy like a toy that might be taken away.

“_No _,” Tony said as firmly as possible, a little aghast that Bucky would even think that. “Steve had to sign one too. Only his was longer. I have considerably more assets than Darcy does and some skittish shareholders. We had to make sure that my mating contract couldn’t be used against me by my Board. Just be thankful yours is less than a hundred pages.”

Bucky considered this. “He never mentioned it-” he said slowly.

Tony bit his tongue to keep from mentioning the possibility that he probably had, but that Bucky had probably forgotten. The alpha was sensitive about his memory problems. Thankfully they weren’t nearly as bad as they used to be when he first woke up.

“Now that we’re done having attacks of the vapors, we can talk business,” Theo chattered. “Once you sign this, the lawyers will have 10 days to file it with the county. After that it will be a part of the public record. And anyone who wants to can look it up and see that you’re mated.”

Bucky pursed his lips. “I was hopin’ we could do... ah... sealed? That’s a thing, right?”

“Not for mating registrations,” a lawyer said promptly. “It’s public for the protection of the omega. That way her family can run a search to see if you’ve been registered before, that sort of thing.”

“And it’ll only be a matter of time before someone wants to investigate a hundred year old registering with an amazing-” Theo paused. Peered at Darcy. “You ARE legal, dear, aren’t you? In New York, it’s 16.”

Darcy flushed an amazing sunset color. “I’m 26,” she protested weakly.

“Really? You _ have _ to tell me what skin cream you use,” Theo said, undeterred. “Anyway, it’s better to rip the band-aid off so to speak. That way you can control the story. Spend a little time cooped up in the tower and wait for it to blow over. So much better than if you were stuck traveling or worse, away... wherever it is you lot go to hit things,” Theo said, dismissively, as if saving the world on the regular was some sort of hobby.

“I don’t want her in front of the cameras,” Bucky protested. “The less people know what she looks like the better.”

“I could do it,” Tony said. “Pepper has me scheduled for a puff piece for the Avengers on Friday. And it’s a good story, so it’ll make her happy.”

“Oh! Fridays are good! It’s when you announce stories you want to die quickly- no one gathers around a water cooler on Saturdays to gossip. Everyone’s at home doing their own things,” Theo said. “And a story like that will be quick to go live. Also everyone’s going to know what she looks like. You have a facebook, don’t you?”

Darcy blinked. “Oh my god, I didn’t even think of that!” she said, slightly panicked. “I mean, I have it kind of locked down because of my mother but I think there’s an old topless of pic of me on there from college-”

Theo waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that. I have someone who’s entire job is to fix things like that. We’ll do it before we announce.”

“There’s a picture of you topless?” Bucky asked, scandalized.

“I was drunk and in college! And it was a dare!” Darcy said angrily.

Bucky sighed. “What am I going to do with you, doll?” he asked fondly, and gently tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll show it to you later,” she said while Bucky sputtered. He didn’t argue against it, Tony noticed.

_ Wise man. _

“So if Tony announces for us,” Darcy said, ploughing ahead. “I’m worried about my mother and my sister. They’ll be eager to show off my naked baby pictures. It won’t matter if I lock down my twitter account.”

“Oh, there’s ways around that,” Theo said brightly. “Boys, what does our latest non disclosure agreement look like?”

Tony wandered off to get coffee. This was going to be a long day.

****************************************

“Officer Lucky!” a large black rottweiler with an eye patch and a police uniform barked. “What do you have to say for yourself?” *

The three legged ratty brown mutt with battered ears, a bullet proof vest and a badge hanging from a chain around his neck considered the other dog seriously. “I saved the little girl, didn’t I?” he growled. “What more do you want?”

“There was serious property damage-” the rottweiler snarled, stomping a paw on his adorable dog sized desk.

“Yeah? Well, blame it on the golden. He never should have interfered-” Lucky snarled back. “He’s a menace-”

“_He _ was the only reason why the whole block didn’t blow up!” the rottweiler howled.

“You wanted to see me, Lieutenant Spike?” a golden retriever with the shiniest coat on the planet stuck his nose in through the door. He panted happily with a dopey dog grin in a way that only labs could.

“Officer Cookie? I want you to meet your new partner, Officer Lucky,” Spike said.

Dramatic music played and Clint gasped and munched on popcorn. “Aggh!” Clint groaned. “That’s such a Fury move! Stab him in his sleep Lucky! He can’t be perfect while he’s on bed rest!”

“Forgive me Mr. Barton, but there is a woman by the name of Ms. Bishop in the lobby. She says she is here to see you.”

Clint paused the episode and consulted his watch. 6:08. Early. He grinned.

“About time,” he said cheerfully.

She was waiting for him in the lobby. Tower security, somehow being on the ball today, had decided that three large bulky alphas were required to keep watch over the tiny black haired beta woman. Clint strode up and beamed down at her. She was shorter than he remembered. If Peter was lucky he might even be a smidgen taller than her.

Clint had an idea that the boy might like that.

“Kate!” he called out. The security guys backed off, and Clint completely ignored them.

Her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. “You really an Avenger?” she demanded.

“Looks like it,” Clint said flippantly. “Come on. You hungry?”

She hummed at him suspiciously, but followed him to the private elevator. “Common floor Jarvis.”

“As you wish, Mr. Barton.”

She switched from staring at him to the ceiling. “Did... that just happen?” she demanded. “He’s a computer,” Clint said, and leaned against a wall.

She went back to glaring at him. “I still don’t know why you called me,” she said.

He shrugged. “Same reason why you showed up, probably.”

“You also have an overwhelming urge to stab cheaters in the back?” she asked flatly.

He shrugged “No. But I usually have that feeling around pedophiles, though,” he said.

She stared at him for a long moment. But more... through him than at him. It made him want to fidget.

“Are you trying to impress me?” she asked finally.

“Do I need to?” he asked.

She sighed. “Does your wife put up with you talking in circles all day?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he cocked his head curiously at her.

“You always...” she stared about 5 inches directly into his skull. “What you mean is exactly what you don’t say. How do you even _ do _ that? Isn’t it... exhausting?”

He blinked. Felt a part of his brain crawl out of his ear. “I manage,” he said eventually. _ Did _ he talk in circles? You always had to be careful what you said, especially when you were basically the only beta in a pack (Bruce didn’t really count in his opinion), and couldn’t read the room as well as the alphas and omegas. His nose, between the genetics and being broken more times than he could count - wasn’t as good as it could be.

The door opened, and Clint walked out first so that anyone in residence wouldn’t freak out too much. Which was good because Sam and Steve were in the kitchen.

When neither alpha started to fuss, he turned and found her still in the elevator. “You gonna grow roots, or what?” he asked.

She sighed heavily and stepped out. “If I start hitting you, would it help or hurt your speech problem?”

Clint snorted, and found himself on the receiving end of a Look from Steve.

“Clint-” he rumbled warily. “Who’s this?”

“Tony said he needed an assistant,” Clint said simply. “Her name’s Kate.”

Behind him, Kate sputtered. Clint ignored her. “You want something to eat?” he asked.

“Clint?” Steve asked, his tone warning.

“Tony can’t fire her for a month,” he said conversationally, heading for the fridge. “It’ll be fine.”

“I swear to god, I’m going to _ stab _ you in your sleep-” Kate hissed at him.

He beamed at her. He hadn’t expected her to make up her mind to stay so quickly. “You can try. Are you going to bring your cat up?”

She made a small choking noise. “Has he always been this brain damaged?” she demanded. “Or did I hit him too hard when we were in St. Louis?”

“Are you sure a beta is the right way to go?” Sam asked. “He’s gonna _ break _ her-” Sam asked, ignoring her.

Clint considered the fridge’s contents. “She’s bendy. She’ll be fine.”

Someone, probably Steve, choked a bit behind him. “Rule 5 Clint,” he said firmly.

Clint rolled his eyes. “I’m not an alpha,” he protested, exasperated. “She’ll be _ fine _. Besides- she works at Dunkin’ Donuts,” he paused. “Used to. Chicken salad?” he turned and asked.

“Can someone talk in a straight line here?” Kate demanded. “Because otherwise, I’m going to go get me a slice of pizza, a bagel, and maybe a knock off purse and then fly home.”

“Tony needs an assistant,” Sam said. “He’s been needing one for a while. But they have to measure up to Pepper, his ex- and. Well. _ No one _ measures up to Pepper.”

Steve snorted. “She’s a _ beta_,” he said derisively. “She didn’t know how to treat him.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “She’s competent as fuck though. You know how hard that is to find? Especially when he was drinking?” Sam shook his head. “She was a goddamn miracle, is what she was. Kept him alive long enough for you two to pull your heads out of your asses, at least.”

Steve snorted again, but didn’t argue.

“So- what. You had me fly all the way out from Chicago so that I can make copies?” she demanded, obviously confused.

“Not everyone tells you when they plan to stab you in the back,” Clint said. “And I’m told the copier jams like a grandmother with a blueberry bush.” He paused. “I think the chinese is still good,” he said, and opened a container to sniff it experimentally.

There was a pause.

“Plus, I did mention that I think we have dental, right?” he said.

She scowled at him, revealing a glimpse of her braces.

Steve sighed, and walked over. “My mate is... special. He’s not as tough as he appears to be. You think you can help take care of him?”

Kate gawked up at him. She obviously was not prepared for the Puppy Dog Eyes version of Captain America. Few were.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Are you _ serious _ ?” she demanded. “None of you people even KNOW me! And YOU- you just call me one day because I beat your ass in a competition and now you want me to help ‘look after’ fucking Iron Man? Are you out of your MIND?? I work at a _ fucking Dunkin’ Donuts _!”

Clint beamed at Steve. “_See? _” he said pointedly, even as Steve narrowed his eyes at him.

“Clint?! I assumed that you knew her-” Steve protested, getting angry.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Look. She’s cute,” he said, ignoring Kate’s widening eyes. “If she put on some makeup and some heels she could walk a red carpet and no one would bat an eye. But she’s plain enough to blend into a crowd. She knows when she’s in over her head. She has good instincts, and she literally just called _ both _ of us on our shit. What more could you want?”

“DID YOU JUST CALL ME PLAIN?” she demanded.

“Plus she has a cat. Cats are very good judges of character. And she’s also young enough that when she stalks Peter she won’t stick out.”

“What?!” she demanded, baffled. Steve ignored her and frowned at him.

“Why would she stalk Peter?” he asked.

Clint gave him a Look. “You really think- you honestly, hand to god think- for one fucking second, _ really _ think that Tony will let him out of the Tower WITHOUT someone from our side stalking him?”

Steve sighed and rubbed his face.

“And Nat and I might be busy. And Peter will fuss if it’s Happy. So- Kate. Plus it’ll be easy. The kid won’t even see her, he’s so...” Clint waved a hand. “It’ll be a good training wheels tailing situation. Everyone wins.”

“He’s got a point,” Sam said. “I’m restarting work for the VA next week. It’ll only be part time, and I’ll be in the tower- but an extra pair of hands- and a Beta to boot- would be helpful. Especially for Tony. And to keep an eye on the kid,” he paused, frowning. “Kid_s. _”

“_And _she can withstand Pepper,” Clint said smugly, knowing that would be the coup de grâce of the argument.

Like he’d expected, a thoughtful silence descended on the alphas while Kate looked baffled.

“Make sure she signs the NDAs,” Steve said finally.

****************************************

She’d died, and this was purgatory, she decided. She must have swallowed her tongue in her sleep last night or something. Nothing else could explain the craziness of this day.

Or, she’d lost her ever-loving mind, she thought as she fucking signed NDAs in an office with a bored lawyer. Some of the language in it made her frown, and she was fairly sure that signing away everything short of her first-born wasn’t exactly legal.

But she fucking signed.

Because of the money of course. The number of zeros she’d earn in her first month was more than she’d earned in her adult life so far. She’d actually make _ less _ money, she was fairly sure, if she put tassels on her tits and danced for Bill Gates while he “made it rain”.

Instead she was just getting Tony Stark coffee. Or reading the emails from his ex that ran his company. Or whatever else that he needed. (Rich people were so... fucking _ weird_.)

The key part of that being- no tassels of any sort were required. From her at least. She wasn’t sure if Stark would be into tassels, but she felt that she was being paid enough that she could talk herself into not caring if he suddenly felt the need to wear tassels on his tits. (As long as he wore pants, she decided, mid-way through initialing paragraphs on page 25).

And also- the dental. It’d be a cold day in hell before she ever admitted that fact to Clint. But it would be nice to get these fucking braces off without resorting to bolt cutters and a crowbar.

At the very least, she could tell her boss that her grandmother died, take a week off work, and when everyone came back to their senses, she’d still have her job in Chicago to fall back on and an ungodly sum in her bank account.

She could probably get a couch with it, she decided. Live a little. Get one with a recliner feature in it. Maybe even buy a new one from a store that only sold furniture- instead of stealing it from the university’s dumpsters on Moving Day like she’d done for almost everything else in her apartment.

She’d save the rest in her bank account, and check the balance 4 times a day. It would keep her from fantasizing so much about killing the customers while she made her 100th ice coffee when there was an actual literal blizzard outside.

“Now what?” she asked Clint, following him into an elevator.

“What guest floors do we have left, Jarvis?” Clint asked

“I’m sorry to say that the last available floor was taken by Dr. Foster,” Jarvis said. “Sir has earmarked two additional floors for construction.”

She frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

Clint sucked in a breath. “Well... You can bunk at a nearby hotel...”

She frowned at him. “Or?”

“I have a futon,” he said. “Natasha also has one, but she’s out and about right now.”

She eyed him. A week tops, before they realized they fucked up, remember?

“I suppose your couch wouldn’t be so bad. I’ll find a hotel room in the morning,” she said, pausing. “No funny business,” she said firmly, narrowing her eyes at him.

He threw his hands up, and backed up a half step so his back hit the wall of the elevator. “Hey. I got it. No means no and all that.”

She almost changed her mind when they got to his place.

“What the fuck is _ THIS _?” she demanded, staring in disbelief at the wobbly coffee table and the beat up futon. In the little kitchenette there was a single wooden chair and a very sad table that looked like it had managed to survive at least 2 civil wars in places you couldn’t pronounce.

“Does Steve know you live like this?” she demanded, angry for some reason.

“Umm...” Clint was looking at his apartment as if for the first time. “Steve’s never been here?” he offered, visibly confused.

She spotted a pristine 80 inch TV leaned against the wall. A surround sound set sat next to it, still in the box. It looked like the box had been there for a while. She scowled.

She started opening doors. One closet that she guessed was originally supposed to hold things like towels, held instead various quivers and random loose arrows.

Another opened to a palatial bathroom. The toilet, to both her immense disappointment and general relief, did not have a speck of gold on it. The showerhead, however, would be finding its way into her purse before she left for good.

To her shocked surprise, there were towels. They did _ not _ have holes in them. It made her suspicious. A man who lived like he did she expected threadbare towels held together mostly by memories of past stains.

The third door opened into a guest room that held an armory large enough to take down a small town. At least the weapons were stored safely and with respect, she noted. The racks that held them looked top-dollar too. There was a whole section that held various kinds of bows. She started to leave when a splash of color caught her off guard and made her do double take.

The wall that held the door also held a large world map. It was one of those ones that you were supposed to color in as you visited the countries. Europe was entirely colored in, as were most of the smaller balkien countries. Russia was only halfway colored, as if someone had started but given up halfway across Siberia.

_ Interesting... _

The next door was an empty room. It had a few banged up boxes in it, as if the man had never quite finished moving in.

The last door held a bedroom. She was expecting a mattress on the floor to be honest, but he threw her a curve ball and had it on a bed frame. Well. It was technically a bed frame. It had a headboard, but one of the corners was held up by some milk crates. Bonus points for trying, perhaps?

There were sheets (surprise!), and a fitted sheet that was actually on the mattress (now he was just trying to impress her). She kicked it experimentally with the toe of her boot and nothing skittered away. The sheets, she noticed, did NOT crunch or stink of... manliness/jizz when she poked them with a pen from her purse. Recently laundered then. Not freshly. But recently.

_ Hmmmm. _

She ran a finger along a window ledge and found it... clean. Freakishly so, in fact.

Her eyes narrowed. She examined the floor. It looked recently vacuumed. But if that man had ever in his life even turned a vacuum on, she’d eat her flats.

_ Maids? _

It would explain... several things, but none of the important ones.

She turned to find him watching her, clearly baffled and slightly worried.

“You’re sleeping on the futon,” she said. She’d take recently laundered sheets over that futon any day.

“Ah... the guns...” he said worriedly.

“You’re sleeping on the futon,” she repeated. “And in the morning I’m going to bring Steve up to visit your apartment.”

He blinked. A flash of confused terror crossed his face for a millisecond before settling into a stony mask. “I think Tony might want you to do some stuff-” he said quickly.

_ Aha. _

“Or you can give me your credit card and watch me spend your money at a furniture store,” she said, then paused. “I’m assuming they’re paying you, yes?”

“Yes?”

“Good. We can burn the futon first,” she said decisively. It was the least she could do while everyone had come down with temporary madness. Clint was a bastard, but he was responsible for the additional zeros in her bank account, so she kinda owed him. Plus, she could go shopping (in fucking New York City!) and pretend like she was furnishing her own apartment. Everyone wins.

Also, and this was key- she’d seen homeless shelters that had looked less... sad than this apartment. It was almost offensive. She couldn’t just... not fix it. It’d drive her bonkers.

“I _ like _ the futon-” he protested.

“Then we’ll get you a new one that you didn’t steal from a crackhouse.”

He blinked at her, then scowled. “I-”

“Please tell me you didn’t actually steal it from a crackhouse,” she said, alarmed.

His eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t a crackhouse,” he said defensively.

“So it _ was _ stolen.”

He sighed, threw his head back, and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re supposed to be doing this to Tony, not _ me_,” he complained to the ceiling.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You live in the most expensive part of New York. And I’ve kicked down doors to actual crack houses that had better furniture,” she said. “Fuck, I live with 2 roommates and most of our stuff comes from the dumpsters next to the dorms of Chicago U, and even _ our _ stuff is better, Clint,” she scolded.

“If you’re going to steal shit at least take it from evil rich people. I mean- you’re a cheating backstabbing bastard of an Avenger and you _ didn’t _ steal your couch from a supervillain’s lair? _ Seriously _? That’s just being lazy, that’s what that is.”

He eyed the futon. “Bad guys don’t have much left after we get done exploding them though,” he complained.

“So go to fucking IKEA like everyone else!” she hissed.

He scowled at her, and opened his mouth to retort, when a voice from the ceiling nearly made her jump out of her skin.

“Forgive me, Mr. Barton, but Peter wishes to know if he could come see you,” Ceiling Man said.

Clint froze, literally froze- to the spot. “Is he hurt?” he demanded angrily.

“He insists it is simply a sprained ankle but I believe it requires a second opinion-”

Clint swore viciously. “Send him up,” he said, and headed for the kitchen. Kate trailed behind him and watched as he got a giant first aid kit out from under the sink. He looked back and frowned at her, as if he’d forgotten that she was there.

“So... be nice to Peter,” he said. “He’s Steve’s. Well. Not really. But he’s his,” he said, eying her like he could engrave his words on her forehead. “And Tony will bury you in Sudan if you make him cry.”

_ Right... _

She waited in the kitchen area, unsure as to what to expect, as Clint put the kit on the wobbly coffee table.

The door to the elevator opened, and Kate’s eyes widened- whatever she’d been expecting- it certainly wasn’t THIS.

“Cliiint,” a tiny, and too-skinny alpha child with faded blue curly hair- and... yoga pants??? Whined.

_ Was it possible for alphas to even come that small? _ She wondered, alarmed, as Clint rushed to pick him up and carry him to the futon. He looked like he was her height or even shorter, and she was SHORT for a fucking beta. And also- _ seriously _ ? _ Cinnamon rolls _? It was the most ridiculous Scent she’d ever smelled in her life.

“Did you hit your head again?” Clint asked urgently, and ran his hands expertly through the boy’s curls once he had him settled.

“No!” the boy snapped defensively. “I banged my ankle and Jarvis freaked out. I was just going to wrap it but he wanted to take me to Medbay! And then they’d have to call Dad down, and _ he’d _ freak- and then _ he’d _ call Ma- and then I’d be locked in my room until 2025!” he complained bitterly. “It was an _ accident _-” he trailed off as he spotted her.

“Who’s she?” he demanded, eyes wide.

“That is Kate,” Clint said. “But what_ I _ want to know is what’s _ his _ name,” he said grimly, his body as taught as a bowstring as he knelt in front of him.

Peter turned to Clint. “What?”

“Kid. I’m a beta, not nose-blind. I can fucking _ smell _ him on you. What is his NAME?”

Peter blinked at him, obviously confused. “Smell who?”

“The _ alpha _ . Who apparently ‘banged your ankle’. Because you can either tell me now so _ I _ take care of it, or I will take you to your father, and we will have a completely different conversation,” Clint said, his voice deadly serious. “You’re too young to be sleeping around- never mind with a fucking _ alpha _-”

The kid stared at him, open mouthed during his tirade. Blinked. “Oh! Oh my god- no! It’s not _ like that _-”

Clint glared at him. “It certainly _ smells _ like that-” he growled.

“Bruce! Dr. Banner! He made me this perfume stuff. Makes me smell like an alpha. So... so that people won’t call me a girl. And leave me alone?” the kid babbled. “I didn’t- I’m not... Jesus Christ, I’m _ not _ pregnant! Or- or anything!” he(?) blurted, somehow both cringing and whining at same time.

Kate’s eyes darted back and forth between the kid and Clint, hoping for a clue as to what the fuck was going on, but found none.

_ Pregnant???? _

Clint stared at him for a moment. “Jarvis?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the kid’s face.

“The Young Master is being truthful. Dr. Banner made him a special alpha perfume. He is to apply it each morning.”

“See! No alpha- just an accident,” the kid begged.

Clint relaxed, then glared at the kid again. “You are going to be the death of all us, you know that right?” he growled. “Stop either nearly dying or making me want to stab people.”

_ Interesting. So he did know how not to talk in circles. _

Peter cringed even harder. “I don’t mean to!” he protested.

“He’s not an alpha?” Kate blurted, confused, and instantly internally cringed.

The kid looked at her. “You really thought I was an alpha?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes?” she said, still confused as fuck, and hoping like hell that was the answer the kid wanted.

He beamed a sunrise smile at her, then at Clint. “She called me ‘HE’!” he(?) crowed excitedly. “It works!”

Clint sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Kate stared at the kid, and a hypothesis formed. She opened her mouth before clicking it shut again, because- hello? You can’t just... _ ask _ people if they’re trans. For just... so many reasons. The kid was happy she called him ‘he’, so she would fucking call him ‘he’ until he told her to do otherwise.

“Kid... it would probably help your cause if you didn’t wear stuff from the omega section,” Clint said, exasperated.

Kate gasped, and leaned over to smack his shoulder. “CLINT!” she hissed, scandalized. “Just because he’s small doesn’t mean he shops in the omega section!” she scolded. “Watch your microaggressions!”

The kid stared at her for a moment, confused, before smiling shyly at her. “But... they _ are _ from the omega section?” he asked uncertainly.

“You wear whatever the fuck you want honey,” she soothed. “_I _ think you look amazing.”

His smile turned beaming again. “They’re just so soft-”

“Yoga pants _ are _ amazing,” she agreed. “I just wish they had pockets-”

“Me too!” the kid agreed. “I have to carry my phone every-” he trailed off, and looked around desperately. “My phone!”

“I think a better question would be- where are your _ shoes_?” Clint asked. Kate looked, and yep- the kid was barefoot. His toenails were painted, she noted absently.

_ Curiouser and curiouser. _

“I have no idea-” the kid said, resigned. “Jarvis, do you know?”

“I believe sir is currently wearing them,” Ceiling Computer Man said.

“So you’ve been barefoot all day?” Clint demanded, outraged.

“I had Darcy’s slides,” the kid protested. “I think I lost them before...” he trailed off. “I mean- I think I left them with my phone,” he said miserably.

Clint sighed. “Foot,” he said.

Peter stuck his foot out, and Clint started to examine it while Kate dug in the bag on the table. She produced a bottle of painkillers. A short trip to the kitchen also produced a glass of water (why the fuck did he have so many bowls??). She came back and handed the child the pills. “Take these-”

“_ALERT. The young master is not to take any medication _-”

Everyone flinched at the sudden shouting from the ceiling and the kid dropped the pills like they were hot rocks. The shouting stopped.

Kate froze. “What just happened?” she asked, afraid to move.

“He’s allergic to... well everything,” Clint said, scowling. “It’s okay- you didn’t know. Jarvis is set up to keep him from taking stuff I guess.”

She picked the pills up off the sofa and took them herself for the headache that she knew was coming on. Jarvis, huh? She peered at the ceiling- either he was a good guesser or there were cameras. She wasn’t sure which option she liked least.

Clint was in the middle of wrapping the kid’s ankle when the kid’s stomach growled loud enough for Kate to hear it all the way in the kitchen where she was putting the glass on the counter.

Clint stared at him suspiciously. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I had lunch?” he offered timidly.

Clint checked his watch, and sighed deeply again. “Kid- it’s almost 7. I thought you were supposed to be eating every couple of hours?”

Peter didn’t meet his eyes. “I forgot?” he tried, then perked up. “Could we go to the cafeteria? They should still be open!”

“I’m not taking you _ anywhere _ without shoes-”

“Hang on,” Kate said, and dug in her purse before producing her flats. “Try these.”

“You have _ shoes _ in your _ purse _?” Clint asked, baffled. “How did they even fit?” he demanded, glaring at her small bag.

“You think I went through airport security with these boots on?” Kate snapped back in disbelief.

Peter took the flats and looked at her black slouchy high heel boots. “Those are nice. I think Darcy would like them.”

“Try them on,” Kate urged, and wondered who Darcy was. So far it sounded like they might get along.

They sorta fit. They were ballet flats and they barely fit over his foot with the wrap on it, but it was good enough. And after some negotiating, puppy dog eyes and a “Pleeease Uncle Clint?” from the kid, Clint agreed to give the kid a piggyback ride to the cafeteria.

_ Sap. _She thought as she watched the man juggle the kid a bit on his back for a better grip. It was unexpected and sweet, and who knew he had a nephew? If he kept this up, she might even not put saran wrap under his toilet seat.

The elevators were on the opposite side as she was expecting- which made sense when you thought about it. Instead of having an opening next to the crowded masses and the public elevators, you instead walked down a hallway and came out a door that opened directly to the back of the cafeteria. The door on the public facing side had what looked like a palm lock on it, and a few steps down were the restrooms.

She approved of the palm lock.

Clint dumped the kid into the nearest empty chair, which also gave them quite a bit of space between them and the nearest diners.

“Keep an eye on him so he doesn’t get kidnapped by space dinosaurs or something,” Clint said. “You allergic to anything?”

Kate shook her head. “Nope.”

“I’ll get dinner,” he said, and wandered off. Kate sat down next to the kid. If Clint got her a salad, she was going to dump it on his head.

“Space dinosaurs?” she asked.

The kid sighed dramatically. “It’s not my fault!” he whined. “Stuff just... keeps happening.”

“Like a banged ankle?”

“_ Exactly _. I don’t need x-rays or an MRI or- or whatever just because I hit my ankle on a shelf rack thing,” he complained. “I wasn’t even going that fast-” he stopped. Stared at her as if realizing that he was actually physically talking to her. “I didn’t say that,” he said decisively. “I was- I was-”

“Not doing something stupid?” she suggested.

“YES- _ fuck _-” he gave her puppy eyes. “Don’t tell Clint?”

“I won’t. But in return you need to tell me about Pepper.”

“Pepper?” Peter asked, clearly confused. “What about her?”

“Anything you can think of.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to be working with Mr. Stark, and reading what she writes him,” she said. “I feel like there’s a history there.” Even if she was only going to be here for a week, she didn’t want to drive blind into what was obviously a minefield.

Peter considered her. “You really going to be working with Ma?” he asked.

She stared at him. _ MA?? _

“Yes,” she said.

He tilted his head and considered her. “She’s a beta,” he said cautiously. “And she’s pretty, I guess? She has red hair, and she always has it up in like... a bun thing.”

It occurred to her that asking an alpha to describe a beta woman might not have been her best idea.

“Ma doesn’t like it when she calls. She yells a lot,” the kid said. “Mostly because he doesn’t sign things or go to meetings like she wants. It hurt my ears the first time she called... she has like... this override so that if he doesn’t answer it comes over the speakers in the ceiling.”

“Does she do that a lot?”

Peter shrugged. “Not as much as she used to. One time I mentioned it to Dad and he said he’d take care of it,” he paused. “I don’t think Ma knows, though,” he said, and gave her a pointed look.

“My lips are sealed,” she said easily. “Anything else?”

Peter shrugged. “She’s nice?” he said after a beat. “I mean... she tries to be nice. She smiles at people, and she gave me a candy bar once. I’ve only seen her a few times, honestly. Ma and her broke up before I came in.”

He paused for a long moment. “You do know the Avengers are a pack, right?” he asked.

If she’d been drinking she would have choked. “What?”

“Steve’s the pack alpha. Tony’s the pack omega. That sort of thing.”

She eyed him. “So- what? You’re the pup?” she asked sarcastically.

He scowled at her. “I’ll have a rank when I’m older,” he said defensively.

_ Holy shit. _

_ He’s Steve’s _\- she remembered distantly. The kid looked... 13ish? And Captain America had been defrosted for... not nearly long enough for the usual option.

_ But not really- _

A clone??? A clone gone wrong? It would explain the... tinyness. Hadn’t Rogers been like... a tiny dude before the... whatever? Patriotic special light thing or whatever they’d done to him?

She wondered, almost absently, if it was too early to start looking into that return flight.

“So that’s why you call him ‘ma’?” she asked, feeling her brain starting to float away from her body.

“Sort of. Dad says he’s my Ma. So-” the kid shrugged.

Kate hummed and decided she’d rather stick her head in a bee’s nest than ask if the kid’s surrogate? Birth mother? Was still around or not. She was only going to be here for a short while, and some Secrets were not worth knowing. Especially ones that other people might murder her over.

Things like “Does Captain America have a secret child clone?” were decidedly in that category. Stark was paying her enough to excuse possible tassels, but not nearly enough to deal with shit like that.

But still. Pepper apparently had a problem with boundaries maybe. That was good to know.

She checked her watch- a little after 7. It wasn’t too late then. She fired off a quick ‘dead grandma in New York’ story to her boss before she could forget.

Clint come back with two trays of food and drinks balanced expertly on his hands. She noted with suspicion that one of them held a salad- but neither Peter nor herself were quite prepared when the man shoved the salad at Peter.

Peter squawked, indignant. “Clint?” It sounded, somehow, quite a lot like ‘et tu brute’.

“Believe it or not, there’s memos,” Clint said, distributing pizza. There was way more pizza than three people should need, she thought, especially considering they were the giant slices like you saw on TV that were bigger than your head. “And I think I’ve gotten more memos about you in the last month than I’ve gotten on Al-Qaeda in my entire life,” he said.

Clint paused, then stared her right in the eye. “Don’t touch his stomach. He’ll kick you across the room. It’s a reflex thing.”

Peter, mouth already full of pizza, squeaked and turned red. “I can’ hel’ it-” he fussed.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Clint scolded almost absently.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said dryly, still trying to figure out the best way to take a bite without suffocating on cheese.

_ Tiny clone all but confirmed. _

“So- what do you know about packs?” Clint asked conversationally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *If you do not know the glory that is “Dog Cops” it’s a show that Clint, Spider-man and Wolverine all watch (according to the Hawkeye comics). From what the fandom guesses (it’s never shown in the comic panels) it’s dogs. Being cops. Thus “Dog Cops”. Marvel never ceases to amaze me with their crazy ideas. I couldn’t help myself here. 
> 
> Someone (forgive me I’ve forgotten their screen name) mentioned a million chapters ago that a sort of “What’s wrong with Peter” recap might be helpful, and I sorta did my best to tetris it into this chapter. I know- I know- everyone wanted the explanation to be given to Harley (he WOULD be adorable with a toddler-sized backpack of Things For Peter) but... I have Plans. So thus, Kate. 
> 
> Honestly, there’s so much going on in this story, even I have trouble keeping track- I literally have 5 different support documents that range from Character sheets to AU time line, etc. I even have one entitled “Unicorn Balls” to help me keep track of all the “plot balls” I have in the air right now. Like- officially? Natasha still owes Darcy a taser and ice cream from chapter 10. And Target Guy. I haven’t forgotten him. He’s on a List. 
> 
> Anyway- this one was a ‘rest’ chapter to help me shuttle some characters and things into place in preparation for the Next Big Arc. Hence the name of the last two chapters- a shadowed valley sounds like a nice peaceful place to hang out for a bit, right? 
> 
> For the next chapter though, I’m going to be kicking us out of the Valley and into ‘Jericho’. So gird your loins accordingly.


	48. Jericho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And the walls came tumbling down.” - Joshua Fought the Battle of Jericho
> 
> Tags: violence, homophobic language
> 
> Shockingly, this one is a shortish chapter. 
> 
> And "editing"? Isn't that like... french for something?

“LA LA LA LA UH UH AH.”

Tony groaned and pulled the bear that laid next to him in bed over his head.

“Nalkaloun secret dulleossan, yaegin beil sog-e-”

“OFF!” he yelled.

The music shut off. “I thought I _ fixed _ that-” he complained, removing the bear.

“You removed Ms. Potts’ override, sir. But you did not specify that you wished to change your wake up routine-”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Tony demanded bitterly. “Since when have you _ not _ noticed when I hate something-”

“I thought it might better motivate you to get up in the morning. You often ignored the previous alarm protocol-”

“What, are you conspiring against me or something? Change it back!” Tony demanded.

There was a pause. “Attempt failed. Override still engaged.”

Tony groaned and rubbed his face. Another Fucking Thing he’d have to take care of. He rolled over and inhaled deeply from the shirt on the bear. The scent on it was fading, and that annoyed him.

_ Stupid alpha... _

Somehow he’d gotten used to the man’s scent, and using him as a pillow at night- the bear was a poor replacement. It didn’t radiate enough heat to power a steam engine for one thing.

Maybe if he shoved a heating pad under its fur...

An odd bubbling in his stomach sent his hand to his belly- but no. It couldn’t be... that. It’d be... he did some math in his head- another week before he could even take the test.

One more week before he could know. For sure anyway.

And he was right- a trip to the bathroom revealed it to be nothing more than a gas buildup.

He had a banana and some decaff for breakfast before heading down to the lab.

He was in the bowels of Jarvis’s code- trying to figure out why the cameras on the left side of the landing pad turned off completely when he deleted a string of code that (in theory) was a tidbit of junk recursion... It was a loop that looped infinitely onto itself for god’s sake with a nonsense variable. Why was it affecting the _ cameras _-

“Stark?”

Tony grunted absently around the pen in his mouth and peered at the screen, scrolling.

“Tony-” a hand tapped him on the shoulder, and Tony jumped a bit, causing the pen to fall out of his mouth. He swiveled to face the threat-

Oh.

“_Jesus Christ _, Barton-” Tony swore, clutching his chest. “Way to sneak up on the guy with a heart condition-” he complained bitterly.

Clint rolled his eyes. “An elephant playing a trombone could sneak up on you, Stark,” he snarked.

“Would the trombone go in its mouth or it’s trunk?” Tony asked, mainly because he knew it would piss him off.

Clint ignored him. “This is Kate,” he said, and gestured at a girl who was hovering at a safe distance. She hesitated, then walked closer.

Tony frowned at her. She was a beta- and was sensibly dressed in jeans, a plain blue tshirt that just did absolutely nothing for her figure, and some sassy boots. She also looked... young.

He raised an eyebrow at Clint. “You got a birth certificate for this one, Legolas?” he asked, wondering why the hell Clint was showing off his girlfriend in his workshop.

Clint sighed the sigh of the heavily oppressed. “She’s your assistant that you can’t fire,” he said patiently.

Tony reassessed her. She was... well. He had a feeling that his stylist Katie would have a field day with her- a good tailored dress would go far there, he felt. But she also didn’t have the air of a vapid... whatever that chewed gum loudly with their mouth open while they twirled their hair either. He’d had a couple of those in the past, and while pleasant to look at, they also tended to do things like store important emails in the trash folder.

“I have no idea what I’d even have you be doing,” he said, peering at her. What was it that Pepper had done all day? He had no idea.

“She could assist you with your List, sir,” Jarvis said.

“My List?” Tony parroted, alarmed.

“You still have not dropped off Peter’s prescription at the pharmacy. I have received notice from the dry cleaners that if your suits are not picked up by the end of the week, they will be donated. There is the issue about the floors that are being used for storage, and I also have several emails from Ms. McCall’s staff about the interview on Friday that you need to respond to-”

Tony rubbed his face and sighed heavily, waving Jarvis to silence. “Okay- okay. I get it-” he paused. “Wait wait wait... McCall?” he demanded. “Isn’t she from Fox?”

Jarvis paused. “Yes sir-”

“I thought I said we weren’t doing interviews with Fox after they said Steve should give up the shield because he was a faggot-” Tony demanded, growing angry.

“Sir, they never actually used that term,” Jarvis said coolly. “I believe the phrase they used was ‘disgracing the memory of those who fought beside him during the war’-”

“Who the hell approved this?”

“I believe Ms. Potts arranged it sir,” Jarvis said.

Tony ground his teeth together, and whipped his attention around to... what was her name?

“Turns out I got a first job for you. Find out how the hell this happened and fix it. I don’t care if I interview someone from the goddamned local cable news, I will NOT be speaking to someone from Fox-”

“Not even if they kiss your ass first and grovel?” she asked.

He considered her. “Make them grovel then cancel anyway,” he said coldly. “But I need to talk to _ someone _\- I have to do Bucky’s mating announcement before the paperwork hits the, the-” he waved his hand vaguely. “Whatever.”

She nodded.

“And the prescription?” she asked.

Tony frowned at her.

“I can multitask,” she said.

Tony patted his pockets and came up with a crumpled piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. He handed it over.

“Now scram. I need to work on this-” he swiveled and put his hands on the keyboard, peering at the screen.

“Forgive me sir, but your presence is required-” Jarvis started.

Tony gave a small snarl of rage. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing!” he shouted at the ceiling. “You are going to be fucking reprogrammed, whether you like it or not- don’t think I don’t know you’re fucking with me about those fucking cameras- that code doesn’t _ do anything _-”

“Some men from the FBI are here to see you about the Supreme Leader-” Jarvis went on smoothly.

“So help me, you wake me up _ one more time _ with that god awful noise-” he shouted, shaking a finger at the cameras in the ceiling, before his brain caught up to what Jarvis was saying, and was able to switch gears. “What the hell does the FBI want?” he asked suspiciously.

“I believe it may be about the ankle monitor, sir. It _ was _ removed without prior authorization-”

Tony sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “FINE,” he snarled. “But don’t think you’re off the hook. As soon as I get done yelling at them, you’re next!”

“As you wish, sir,” Jarvis said. Was it it Tony’s imagination, or did the AI actually sound amused?

Tony huffed and brushed past an alarmed Clint, looking for his god damned fucking _ shoes. _

“Are we talking the actual North Korean Supreme Leader, or...” Clint asked.

Tony rolled his eyes. “He’s not keeping the nickname,” he said, irritated. “Jarvis, where the fuck are my _ shoes _?”

“Next to the coffee pot, sir, as always” Jarvis said calmly.

Tony grunted. Sure enough they were on the floor next to the coffee pot. Was it a great idea to be wandering around barefoot in a shop he did metal work in? No. But he always thought better barefoot. And it was his personal shop, so OSHA could take a fucking hike-

He slipped into the canvas shoes. He didn’t remember buying them, but they were fucking comfortable. Maybe they were an old gift from Pepper or something?

Whatever.

He walked down to the elevator like a bear who’d been chased from a picnic basket.

“This had better be worth it Jarvis,” he growled.

“They insist it is a matter of national security sir,” Jarvis soothed.

Tony grunted. “They mention Korea?”

“No sir.”

He hummed. Sometimes it was what government types _ didn’t _ say that told you more. So either they didn’t suspect a thing, or they totally did and were trying to play games.

But if they were... surely they’d have Fury come to yank on his chain?

Or maybe they were self-obsessed self-righteous alpha types.

Hmmm...

Either way-

He was not prepared to literally walk into Steve as he got off the elevator. He staggered backwards, and was only saved from falling on his ass by Steve grabbing his arm.

“Whoa- I’m sorry baby. I thought you saw me,” Steve said gently, and helped Tony regain his balance.

Tony scowled up at him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Federal agents want to talk to my mate,” he said simply.

“I can do it myself!” Tony protested. “I’ve testified before Congress-”

“Of course. But this way not only do I get a ring side seat, I get to stand behind you and glare at people,” Steve said brightly. “I haven’t gotten to glare at federal agents in forever. It’ll be fun.”

Tony stared blankly up into his alpha’s shining, earnest face. “You are so full of shit, Rogers,” he complained.

“Yep. Still gonna glare at them though,” Steve said cheerfully, apparently determined to just steam roll his way to what he wanted.

Tony sighed and gave up. It was easier to just let him win. _ This time. _

“Fine. But keep your mouth shut.”

“Of course,” Steve said in exactly the same tone he often used with Fury.

Tony sighed again, but more deeply this time.

A blonde beta woman in improbably high red heels clicked her way over. “Mr. Stark? Captain Rogers?” she asked with a hesitant smile. “Are you here for the federal agents?”

“Yes,” Tony said.

She nodded. “This way, please,” she said, and walked away. Tony followed her with a thoughtful frown. How did she not fall over? Any higher and she’d be... what was the ballet term? On pointe? They didn’t look like Louboutins either... but they were definitely cute. And they were just the right shade of red.

The ones Natasha had didn’t fit quite right.

“Where did you get your shoes?” Tony asked.

She turned to look at him with a startled frown that was quickly erased. “Ah, Zappos sir.”

“That’s online, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “They have a great return policy,” she said.

Tony hummed thoughtfully. He opened his mouth to have Jarvis add it to a list, then remembered that Steve was behind him- and he had no interest in breaking the alpha _ now _. He was still mad at him.

Well... officially anyway. This morning he was more mad that he missed the damnable man so much. You weren’t supposed to miss someone when you were mad at them, right?

He’d break the man later.

Maybe tomorrow. He still had to get that damn alarm off...

She stopped at a door and opened it. “Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers,” she announced, then got out of the way.

Tony threw his shoulders back, took a breath, and swanned in, instantly regretting that he hadn’t stopped to get sunglasses somewhere.

Five men stood around a conference table. There were 3 alphas and 2 beta lawyers. Interesting. “Gentlemen,” he said with just the right hint of derision. “I trust this isn’t a waste of my time,” he said, and sprawled into the nearest chair. He didn’t even have to look to know that Steve stood behind him, looming.

“Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers,” one of the lawyers said. “This is Mr. Millar with the U.S. Marshals, Special Agent Driscoll of the FBI, and Agent Crane, also with the FBI-”

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Wonderful. What do they _ want _?”

“Sir, it won’t take but a moment of your time-” one of the agents- Tony hadn’t bothered to try to remember names- produced a piece of paper from a briefcase and slid it over. “Can you tell me if this is your signature?”

Tony frowned at them. This was not the direction he’d been expecting. He didn’t look at it. “I sign lots of things,” he said derisively. “Some of them I even read first.”

“We just need to know where this signature was taken from,” the agent said patiently.

Tony rolled his eyes, and leaned forward to deign to look at the paper. It was his signature. He pulled the paper closer, frowning. What on earth-

It was the last page of Harley’s guardianship papers.

He stilled, his eyes flicking up back to the men. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.

“Sir, we’re hoping you could help us in an investigation-”

“This is supposed to be a sealed record-” Tony cut him off, and passed the paper to his lawyer. “Did you know about this? How did you not know about this?” he demanded. “Aren’t we supposed to get a warning or something before they unseal things?” The lawyer took the paper, and frowned at it.

“Sir, we believe that someone forged your signature on guardianship papers-” the alpha persisted.

“It’s not forged,” Tony snapped. “And those records were _ sealed_,” he snapped. “_Where did you get them _?”

A tense silence fell.

“Forgive me, are you saying you- Tony Stark- took over legal guardianship of the minor alpha Harley James Keener?” the most senior alpha asked, sounding perplexed.

“Yes. And that’s why they were sealed. For security reasons. Why the FUCK do you have them?” he demanded.

The men shifted, clearly caught off guard.

Behind him, Steve also shifted. Tony turned to frown at him. Steve raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unhappy. Tony frowned at him some more before he remembered that he might have forgotten to tell Steve about the whole ‘legal guardianship’ thing...

_ Oops. _

Steve apparently read him like a book, because he huffed, and his look of annoyance turned into wry resignation.

Tony scowled at him, and turned to also scowl at the alphas that were wasting his time.

“Well?” he demanded.

“Not long after he was placed in your custody his ankle monitor was disconnected-” a second alpha spoke up.

“The doctors did that,” Tony said, while his lawyer had a small coughing fit. “He had to have an MRI. You can’t have metal near the machine- it would have torn his leg off or something.”

“So you know where he is.”

“Yes.”

“I must ask that you produce him-”

Tony snarled, and at least one of the alphas flinched a bit.

“You come within 100 feet of him and I’ll have you all reassigned to cleaning toilets in Yellowstone,” he threatened.

“He is a suspect in at least two federal investigations-”

Tony snarled again. “And I feel I must remind you that aiding and abetting a suspect in evading police custody is a crime-”

Tony stood, and smacked the table.

“You _ people _ -” he sneered. “You took _ my kid_, and you chained him to a wall for hours. HOURS! He had cracked ribs and a god damned skull fracture and you chained him to a fucking wall in his underwear! The Ten Fucking Rings at least gave me _ god damned pants- _”

The most senior one rallied first. “Sir- that allegation will be looked into-”

“He’s a _ child_! They took him to an adult prison! And then left him there! No food! No water! Like _ hell _ am I going to let you-”

A hand landed on his shoulder. Tony’s first instinct was to shrug it off and give rabid “how the fuck dare you” eyes to the offender, but it was Steve- who had a look on his face like he was about to lay a patriotic smack down.

Tony sat, and tried to remember to breathe.

“I think that it would be best if you left,” Steve said coldly.

“Captain America-” one of the alphas pleaded.

_ Oooh, that was a mistake, Steve hated that- _

“We are asking that you produce a possible bomb maker for an inter-state omega trafficking and drug ring. We have 3 dead bodies, and 4 people in the ICU, not to mention several missing omegas-”

Tony stiffened in his chair. “My son would NEVER-” he snapped.

Steve squeezed his shoulder, and rumbled a bit and Tony felt his mouth snap shut almost of its own accord.

“I give you my word that Harley is in this Tower,” Steve said solemnly. “But any child of Tony’s is also a child of mine. I won’t just let you walk in here and take him. I can also tell you that I cannot produce him. He’s in rut. Having _ anyone _visit him, never mind a strange alpha- I would not allow it.”

“Captain-”

“This is my home. A safe place for my mate and my family. And Harley is part of that family,” Steve said deadly serious. “And now I’m going to ask you to leave. You’re upsetting my mate, and I will _ not _ have it.”

“Captain-” he tried again.

“I suggest that next time you bring an appropriate supervisor and make an appointment,” Steve said, still deadly calm. “You can speak to the lawyers. You will _ not _ be speaking to Tony again-”

A siren went off, and everyone flinched.

“ALERT. Avengers Assemble. I repeat: ALERT. Avengers Assemble,” Jarvis rang out.

“Get them out!” Steve barked at the lawyers as he held the door open for Tony. He was close behind him as they made a dash for the elevator.

They stood in uneasy silence for a moment as the elevator started to move.

“Thank you. For speaking for Harley,” Tony said stiffly. “He’s a good kid-”

Steve sighed, and ever so gently cupped Tony’s face with a hand. “Of course. But next time baby?” he smiled sadly, gently brushing a cheek with his thumb, “Next time you adopt a kid, can I hear it from you first?”

Tony flushed. “I- I didn’t mean too-” he complained. “But everything was moving so fast and I needed to get him out of Tennessee, and I was going to talk to you before I brought him here in December after his birthday, but then he got arrested-”

“Maybe at least give me a name when you’re in the market,” Steve said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “That way I can at least help label the bunk beds-”

Tony scowled at him. “And it’s not adoption. It’s different- I just needed it so that he could stay with me-”

“So again- when you adopt a child, let me know _ before _ you sign the papers?” Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

Tony huffed. “Fine,” he agreed.

“So are there any others I should be keeping an eye out for?” Steve asked.

Tony almost- _ almost _\- wrapped his arms around his stomach, but stopped himself at the last second. He turned the aborted motion into an arm scratch.

“No,” he said, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes.

Now wasn’t the time to drop “I might be pregnant with your baby” on an alpha. And he might _ not _be pregnant anyway. There was no point in raising a huge fuss and then having it turn out to be nothing. Because Steve would definitely fuss, if not lose his shit if he learned that Tony was pregnant.

He still wasn’t sure how the alpha felt about babies after all. He said he’d be open for Tony bringing home strays, but there was some sort of implicit understanding there that they’d be at least potty trained first.

Steve sighed, and gently kissed his forehead. “I love you,” he said.

Tony leaned into the kiss and muttered something that might have been “Love you too.”

The door to the elevator slid open to the labs, and Tony reluctantly withdrew. “I’ll meet you there,” he said.

Steve nodded. “We’re talking more after this,” he called after him.

Tony ignored him, and power walked down the hall.

“What do we know J?” he asked as he burst into the lab.

“Fury has activated the Avengers,” Jarvis said calmly. Footage appeared on a nearby monitor. “There is an unknown armed force and a large robot having a battle on the tarmac at Laguardia Airport.”

Tony peered at it. It was footage from what looked like a security camera. Several large, bald, and green (?) men were shooting some sort of laser rifles at a large (blue?) metallic robot, who was throwing bits of what looked like a baggage car back at them.

That or it was an extremely large naked man with a serious metallic paint kink. He squinted a bit, and waved- the footage was transferred to a holoscreen. He waved again and it was enlarged. He glared at the screen. The footage remained fuzzy.

“Any other angles J?” he asked.

“Not at this time, sir,” Jarvis said.

He grunted. “Spin up the Mark 35,” he said.

“Sir, the turtling issue-”

“Is more than made up for by the extra plating,” Tony shot back. “Mark 35 Jarvis.”

“As you wish sir.”

He flipped up a plastic protector and punched a large red button. A section of wall hissed and moved, revealing a drab sky punctuated by grayish clouds. Which was just great. Looked like Steve and the rest were probably going to get rained on at some point.

He took a running leap and fell a few stories before his boot rockets kicked in and sent him skyward.

It took 10 minutes to get to Laguardia, and even less to spot the problem. The 25 foot tall shiny blue robot man was tossing a car they used to push airplanes around at a group of swole green aliens in... yep that was viking helmets and some sort of leather looking armor. The car took down two that weren’t fast enough to get out of the way and rolled right into the concourse with a shrieking crash.

The green men were screaming at apparently both the robot and each other, and were doing their best to take cover behind baggage cars.

“Jarvis, are you seeing this?” he asked, and tried to survey the damage from a safe distance.

“The aliens appear to be attacking each other,” Jarvis agreed.

Tony twisted in mid-air. “Where the fuck did they even _ come _ from?”

Jarvis chirped at him, and his screen showed a zoomed in close up shot of what looked like metallic wreckage at the end of the runway that had been built out into the river. “I believe that is their spaceship, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Jesus Christ, looks like they had one hell of an airbag system,” Tony grumbled. “I guess making them leave is off the table then- can you show Cap this?”

“Yes sir. The rest of the Avengers are in the Quinjet and are approximately 5 minutes behind you.”

A second later, Steve’s voice filled the suit. “What am I looking at here, Iron Man?” he asked.

“That is the wreckage of their spaceship. Whoever they are, they’re marooned here. They haven’t shot at me yet, but I think it’s because they’re busy being killed by Optimus Prime over there.”

“How close are they to the concourse?”

“It’s been hit by thrown cars a couple of times, I think I’m going to try to see if I can lure the robot away-” Tony said thoughtfully. “Maybe if I keep it busy, SHIELD can try to talk to these bozos... any word from Coulson?”

“He’s coordinating the evacuation. It’s going to be a few minutes before they can have the airspace completely clear- keep a heads up for civilian aircraft-” Steve said.

“Are those viking helmets?” Natasha asked.

Tony hummed. “Possibly?”

“Do you think they’re from Asgard?” she asked.

“I don’t remember Thor mentioning any of their people being green-” Tony considered. “And I don’t understand what they’re screaming at each other- Jarvis?”

“I do not recognize their language,” Jarvis offered.

“So we have possible friendlies,” Steve said. “We’ll treat them as such until they prove otherwise.”

“Got it,” Tony said, “I’m gonna see if I can make this damn robot thing drown. Jarvis?”

He shot a couple of light repulsor blasts at the robot’s back. Nothing that should damage it, but enough to get it’s attention. It froze, then it’s upper body rotated 180 degrees like a He-Man action figure to face him.

“Oooh, that’s creepy,” Tony muttered, as the thing stared at him. He shot it again. Right in the face this time. Maybe if he made it mad?

It’s eyes went from yellow to red.

Well, that was something, right? He shot it in the face again.

“Come on. Come get me,” he muttered. “I’m annoying. You hate me. I taste good. Come ON-”

It moved and it’s lower half also swiveled as it took a step forward towards him, and away from the concourse. The movement was inhuman and sickening and fascinating all at the same time.

“_Come on- _” he swooped a little bit closer, and the thing batted at him.

“Yes, yes. Good- good,” Tony muttered, and started shooting at it while retreating towards the East River. “Lets see if you can swim, you bastard.”

He shot at it a few more times, while keeping just barely out of arm’s reach. He noted, almost absently, that while it looked like someone had taken a bald, caveman alpha, made him 25 feet tall and spray painted him blue, the thing had no dick. Just a smooth ken doll bottom.

Which was weird, because Tony distinctly remembered seeing separate asschecks on the back.

It baffled him. Why go through all the trouble of making a robot man with crazy thicc muscles, and then just chicken out when it came to adding a dick and balls? It was a total lack of dedication to creative vision, he decided.

Because honestly, what other reason could possibly call for giving a robot so many fake muscles? Robots didn’t need muscles. Because they were_ robots. _Nor did they need ass cheeks.

But yet here they were. Tony Stark Vs incomplete sex robot of doom.

Who was going kinda slow in Tony’s opinion.

“Come on!” he hissed. He was only halfway to his goal and he was starting to lose patience- he shot it for real this time, and managed to singe it’s hand.

Oh, wonderful. Whatever it was made of, it was built to withstand energy weapons, including his repulsors.

“Tell Legolas and Winter to break out the 50 cal sniper rifles,” he said idly. “My repulsors aren’t doing much. Any hint as to what it’s made of Jarvis?”

“My scans are inconclusive. The blue material appears to be some kind of paint, which is interfering-”

“Yeah yeah, got it-”

“Sir, the aliens appear to be firing on the concourse.”

“WHAT?” Tony swooped higher and yep- they were firing at civilians stupid enough to stand within sight of the glass. He didn’t have a clear shot-

“Cap the green guys are firing at civilians!” he shouted. “I can’t distract the robot _ and _ take care of them-” he said, and shot randomly at them anyway. It landed close and at least scattered them.

“Roger that,” Steve said grimly. “I’m a minute out.”

“God damn it-” he powered up and shot the robot in the face again, leaving it singed. “I don’t have TIME- get _ over here _ already-”

That did it. The thing lunged at him, and Tony only barely swerved out of the way. Now it was pissed.

He shot it again, still working his way backwards. Over in the distance he could see Steve deflecting blasts with his shield- one such sailed much too close to him as it went past.

He whipped his head around just in time to see something on the other side of the river explode a bit. “Please tell me that wasn’t important,” he asked.

“I believe that is the bottling factory for Canada Dry,” Jarvis said.

“Cap! You’re exploding soda factories! Quit screwing around!” he scolded, and ducked another angry robot hand.

_ Almost there... _

The next few lasers reflections went upwards into space.

He rushed forward, shot it point blank, and swooped up and away.

The thing took off after him, at it’s apparent full speed- a lumbering run.

He shot it in the ken-doll plate for the sake of variety as he hovered over the water of the East River.

“Come on- swimming lesson 101- it’ll be fun-” he muttered and started unloading on it.

It hit the end of the concrete at a full run, reaching for him-

He darted out the way at the last second and it straight up belly flopped into the river.

“Cap? How you doin’?” he asked.

“The green guys are down,” Steve said grimly. “How’s your robot?”

“Well, he’s definitely wet,” Tony said, scanning the water. “I’ve lost track of him- there’s like zero visibility,” he complained. “Where’s GreenPeace when you need them- ACK!” he ended with a squawk as a gigantic hand clamped around his ankle and dragged him to the bottom.

“TONY!”

“I’m fine! The suit’s waterproof-” Tony babbled, and kicked at the hand with his free foot. “Stupid robot from space- I am _ so _ gonna dissect you-” he muttered.

When that didn’t work he aimed for the red glow with the cutting laser from his gauntlet.

He cartwheeled when he broke the surface as it threw him, and panted a bit with stress as he struggled to correct himself to hover in mid air.

“Sir, the power line to your left boot has been damaged-” Jarvis said, but he didn’t have to- Tony could feel it sputtering as he finally drifted to a standstill over the tarmac.

“Iron Man?”

“I’m okay! I think I really pissed it off though- Jesus _ CHRIST _-”

The thing didn’t climb out of the river it _ jumped_, and it landed with a earthshaking thud that left a crater in a runway.

“Someone please tell me they have a shot at that fucking thing-” Tony said.

He was answered by a distant gunshot, and watched as the bullet hit the dead center of the stomach- the skin/paint dented inwards and rippled like water- then the bullet fell to the ground.

_ WTF? _

“It absorbed the impact! Go for an eye!” he said, and shot it in the face to keep it occupied.

This time it’s head lurched back a bit when it got hit, but it absorbed the impact of that as well.

“No effect-” he reported, and shot it in the face again because now he was starting to get angry.

“Might I suggest using the Unibeam, sir?” Jarvis said.

“What’s my percentage at?” Tony asked.

“You are at near full charge, sir.”

“Get me so that if it goes through it, I’ll hit the factory?” he said, and settled in for a landing a healthy distance from the thing. It was better than hitting a school- the damn thing started stalking towards him.

“Iron Man?” Steve asked.

“I’m trying something-” he said, and grunted a bit as the taste of coconut became almost overwhelming as the suit charged up. He made sure his feet were planted firmly in the asphalt, and aimed carefully.

The Unibeam went off when the robot was only 30 feet away.

It staggered, then fell over. “Jarvis? Did we hit the plant?”

“Negative sir. You are now at 50% power.”

“Did you get it?” Steve asked.

“Maybe? Give me a minute,” Tony said. He looked around, picked up a rock, and tossed it at it. It landed with a ping before bouncing off.

Nothing happened for a second, and then just as Tony was deliberating about walking over and kicking it, it started to get up. The center of its chest was no longer blue, but silver, with glowing red in the middle, right where he hit it.

“Shoot it while it’s hot!”

Several rounds went off- it seemed both Clint and Bucky were unloading at the same time. Tony watched as the bullets left dents in its chest, but didn’t penetrate. It stood, apparently not even noticing the shots.

“Cease fire!” Steve barked. “It’s not doing any damage.”

The shooting stopped.

Tony sighed. “Anyone have any ideas?” he asked as he went airborne again.

“Ma?”

Tony froze. He knew that voice. “ _ P- Spiderbaby? _ What are you doing on the comms?” he demanded.

“Look- you remember Empire Strikes Back, and the ice planet? They were being attacked by the walking thingies?” Peter asked, ignoring him. “And Luke Skywalker tied one up with his snowspeeder?”

Tony eyed the robot. “Yeah kid?”

“Can’t you do that?”

“First of all, I don’t have a tow cable. Secondly- what the _ hell _ are you doing on the comms?”

“I’m in the lab. I’m watching your video feed-”

“Oh are you now?” Tony demanded. “And who the _ hell _ told you you could do that?”

“Look- I have a spare pair of web shooters in the Quinjet. You could use that to tie it up.”

Tony sighed. It wasn’t the worst idea.

“Tony? Are you talking to Spider-man?” Steve asked. “Can’t you hear him?” Tony asked.

“No. Just you.”

Tony growled a bit. “So... the kid’s got an idea. But I’m gonna need someone to keep Optimus distracted while I make a run to the Quinjet.”

“Winter, we’re up-” Steve said decisively. “Widow- how’s the evac going?”

“Super,” Natasha shouted, over what sounded like several screaming infants. “And the green guys aren’t Asgardians. Coulson says Asgardians don’t use plasma guns. Something about honor?”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Steve said.

Tony shot the robot, almost absently, and gently floated just out of it’s reach. This was starting to get old. He waited for Steve and Bucky to jog up.

“Keep it busy!” he called, and headed for the Quinjet. Bucky shot at the thing from one side. The damn thing didn’t even make a sound, it just started going for Bucky, then got hit by a flying shield from behind, and went for Steve. Until it got shot-

Tony flew faster. They wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long if it decided to start learning.

He skidded to a stop on the tarmac on the other side of the airport and hastily ripped his right gauntlet off. There was no way the wrist band would fit over his armor.

“Jarvis, where’s the web shooters?”

“They are in the second bin to your left,” Jarvis said, and highlighted it in his display.

Tony raided it, and quickly put the shooter on. He had to flip up his helmet and help fasten it with his teeth- but he got it on. He shot an experimental web at the ground just outside and grunted when it worked.

Right. Star Wars time-

“Tony?!” he frowned at the female voice. He didn’t instantly recognize it.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Darcy. Whatever it is you’re doing, you need to hurry! Jane’s instruments are going crazy- we think one of those rainbow bridges from Asgard is going to be hitting any second now-”

“Do we know who’s coming through?”

“I don’t even know where it’s going to BE-” Darcy said urgently. “But if it’s Loki-”

“_Shit. _”

“Iron Man?” Steve asked. He sounded concerned.

“We have possible Loki incoming. We need to wrap this up,” Tony said. “I’m on my way to the robot- someone alert Coulson-”

“What do you mean- Loki’s coming?” Clint demanded, sounding alarmed.

“Darcy says Jane is detecting an incoming wormhole thing. But we don’t know who’s coming through-”

“Do we have a location?” Nat demanded.

“No,” Tony said and took to the air.

“Jarvis? Tell Falcon to lock the tower down,” Steve ordered. “If Loki is coming he might try a repeat performance.”

“Lockdown sequence initiating,” Jarvis said.

Tony jogged out of the Quinjet and got airborne. He was still halfway over the airport concourse when he heard Winter curse in fluent russian.

“Did anyone else see that?” he demanded.

“See what?” Tony asked as there was a distant peel of thunder somewhere behind him.

“I estimate that it hit the Tower,” Clint said, his voice steely.

“Hawkeye-” Steve started.

“I’m heading for the Quinjet,” Clint said calmly. It sounded like he was running. “It’ll take me 5 minutes to get there.”

“Evacuate the omegas!” Steve ordered, his voice hard. “Widow-”

“Coulson’s working on getting backup. Communications are spotty-”

“Peter, if you can hear me, get to the safe room in Bruce’s lab,” Tony ordered. Silence answered him.

_ They’ll be fine. _

They _ had _ to be fine.

“Jarvis, what is the status of the children?” he demanded.

“Forgive me sir, but communications have been lost with the Tower. I believe the main communications array has been damaged- and the secondary system is not responding-”

Tony swore viciously, and almost zoomed right past the robot he was so angry.

“Cap, get clear! Winter- will you send Sam smoke signals with your fucking flip phone?” he demanded. “The Tower’s communications arrays are down.”

Steve and Bucky scattered, and Tony shot the thing right in the chest with the webbing as he hovered. In the background, the rest of the team kept giving updates to each other on their efforts to get back in touch with the Tower.

“Jarvis, mute the comms,” he said, and there was blessed silence. If the debacle at the pool were anything to judge by, he’d need all his concentration for this.

It stared at the string, apparently bewildered. Tony started circling. He broke the web on his first three attempts, but it didn’t take long to get a feel for the feedrate and how fast he could go around without dislocating his arm from G-force.

_ How the fuck did the kid do this? _ He was going at least half as fast as he remembered seeing Peter do this, and his shoulder was going to be sore for the rest of the fucking week-

He kept going even when it started to look like a mummy- the damn thing followed him with its head as he spun around it. Eventually, he ran out of web fluid.

He flew backwards a little, and for the sake of experiment, shot it with a repulsor in the face again.

It stared at him, tried to move forward, and fell over.

“AHA! Suck my mother fucking dick-” Tony crowed while he hovered over it. “Jarvis-”

He was not prepared for the laser beams that came out of it’s eyes and ripped right through the webbing holding it captive. He skittered out of the way- and wasn’t fast enough. It raked him across his chest-

“Power systems failing-” Jarvis announced as alarms screamed at him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted- struggling to stay in the air.

His left boot gave out. He fell a bit-

The robot grabbed him by an ankle and slammed him into the tarmac- he rolled to a stop. Right on his back.

_ FUCK. _

He looked over and saw the robot get up. Start it’s way over to him. A shield came flying, smacking it- but it paid Steve no heed.

Okay okay okay. If he ejected... made a run for it- it _ might _ hit him with the lasers and he’d definitely be dead.

But if he _ stayed in the suit- _

A brainwave hit him. He stuck the arm with the repulsor out at a 90 degree angle from his body, and stuck it in the dirt.

“Jarvis, lock my left arm and put everything into the hand thrustor-”

“Firing in 3-”

The robot loomed incredibly close to him.

“Fire NOW!”

He flipped just in time to get hit with what felt like a laser again, if the distant warmth on his back was any judge.

He turned his head to look at it- a mistake as it tilted it’s head at him, as if curious.

Fuck-

It raised it’s foot over him-

_ Oh god, it was going to crush him- _

Even through his helmet he could hear his alpha screaming at it-

_ My babies- _

He curled up into a ball, and braced for impact.

Everything went white.

_ MY BABIES- _

Everything went black as the world around him exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you cliff hangers were coming. The good news? My classes ended on Friday, and my brother and his family are 90% moved into their new house. The house my parents and I are moving into is taking longer than expected to be built, so we’re currently stuck in a weird moving limbo as we pack crap as directed by my mother only to unpack it again 2 weeks later because we actually needed that crap. *sighs*
> 
> Can I take a moment and whine about how my local IKEA has been out of stock of some of the stuff I want for my new room for like 2 months now? Because I feel like that’s a legitimate complaint. It’s a drawer cabinet thing for desks, not a rocket ship. Get it in stock already! 
> 
> The robot has a name. It’s called Ultimo. (It’s NOT Ultron.) https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Ultimo_(Earth-616)
> 
> The green dudes shooting at everyone are Rajaks. https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Rajaks
> 
> According to the fandom wiki, the Rajaks were attacked by Ultimo, who then attacked him back, and they chased each other all the way to Earth, whereupon they both got knocked to the surface by meteors. Why an alien robot looks like a naked dude, I don’t know. Gene Coman and Stan Lee, who created him, are both deceased so we can’t ask them. I _can_ tell you that in Tales of Suspense #77 it wears the most adorable little loincloth like a caveman. 
> 
> I’m guessing that the Mandarin put it on him. (He was controlling Ultimo in that story line). 
> 
> Which leads to an interesting philosophical point: why would a villain care so much about the modesty of a humanoid robot and (presumably) decency laws...? Hmm... 
> 
> (Tony didn’t fare very well against Ultimo in that issue either.) https://imgur.com/WWJsXiX
> 
> Edit: I had these so they were clickable links but apparently AO3 disables HTML links? Bummer.


	49. Deus Ex Machina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The term literally means “god machine”- it originates in Ancient Greece from when an actor playing a god “descended from the heavens” (lowered on a rope, probably via some sort of pulley system, thus the “machine” part of the phrase) onto the stage, so that the god could solve all the problems in the play. 
> 
> These days it’s usually a derisive literary term used to describe when problems in a work are resolved in an unsatisfying way by outside forces never before mentioned in the work. The “god”, as it were, literally poofs out of nowhere, waves a hand, fixes things, then disappears- never to be seen again. 
> 
> The fairy godmother in Cinderella (at least in the Disney version) is a good example of this. Nowhere in the text is it mentioned that fairies or godmothers of supernatural natures exist ahead of her arrival. And yet everyone accepts it when she just... pops right into existence. Then once she's got the dress and carriage situation fixed, she disappears, never to be seen again. That’s straight up Deus Ex Machina. The tale itself is so old we just accept her as “part of the story” without question. 
> 
> ..........
> 
> I did mention that we have a literal demigod running around in this universe, right? He’s rather fond of poptarts, and he “wears his mother’s drapes” for a cape. Big? Blonde? Definitely climbable? Has a proclivity towards all things related to thunder and/or giant unliftable magic hammers and people named Jane? No? 
> 
> Anyway, I wonder what Steve's up to.
> 
> Tags:  
Domestic violence (blink and you’ll miss it), and Miss Communication does a song and dance routine for us.

Steve watched in horror as the robot lumbered across the runway to loom over his mate.

He roared a challenge at it, and hit with his shield, but it only had eyes for his omega.

“_WINTER _-” he almost didn’t recognize his own voice- it was shredded with stress.

But Bucky was already unloading on it while running closer to the thing, in an attempt to get it’s attention, to lure it away.

It raised it’s foot- and Tony curled into a ball-

“_TONY! _” he screamed, and reared back so he could wing his shield directly into the thing’s head-

Almost in slow motion, the foot started to come down-

He blinked, and the world went white as he was blown backwards, his training with Nat turning it into a controlled tumble. He popped back up- shield in front of his face, and when he lowered it to peek over it he found the robot in mid topple, it’s head a blackened mess.

Standing next to it, hammer in hand, was Thor, complete with his silly red cape. The robot fell with a large boom, making his cape flap dramatically. The sight was equally irritating and relieving and Steve sighed. _ Of course _ the demi-god would come in at the last second and look amazing while defeating something Steve hadn’t even been able to dent-

He shoved his feelings aside. They didn’t matter- what was important was that Tony was safe. He started to jog over as Thor leaned over to check on Tony, who was still curled up in a ball. He opened his mouth to shout a welcome to the man- when a snarling Bucky tackled Thor to the ground, and got two solid hits in with his metal hand.

_ SHIT. _

Bucky had never met Thor before-

“BUCKY NO-”

Hammer met flesh, and Bucky was sent tumbling down the runway. He rolled once, stuck out his metal arm, and left finger marks in the asphalt as he literally dragged himself to a halt. The noise of it made Steve wince, but he didn’t stop running until he’d put himself and his shield between Thor and Bucky.

“**SERGEANT STOP!**” he roared.

Bucky rumbled menacingly, and didn’t take his eyes off Thor, who climbed to his feet behind him. “He’s a friendly. It’s okay. Take a lap,” Steve barked.

Bucky swallowed, then after a moment nodded tightly, and sat heavily on the tarmac. Steve watched him long enough to recognize the man starting to do a breathing exercise meant to ward off panic attacks, before giving a tense nod to Thor, and rushing over to Tony.

“Tony?” Steve crouched down- and realized that the man was still curled up into a ball. “Honey, can you hear me?” He ripped off his gloves and held Tony’s hand- still warm and there, thank god, was a pulse.

“Tony are you alright in there?” he asked, and rapped on the helmet. (Tony hated that.)

No answer.

“I felled it before it touched him, I think,” Thor said gravely. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Steve glanced at the robot. “Hit it again,” he growled. “Make sure the damn thing’s dead.”

Thor nodded. “As you wish, Captain,” he said, then stalked off to do just that.

Steve fiddled with his comm. “Can anyone hear me?” he asked, as Thor started to drag the robot down the tarmac like it was nothing.

There was a click in his ear- his earpiece rebooting.

“Cap! Do you copy?” Clint said.

“I’ve got you. I need help on the tarmac. Tony’s alive but not responding. I think Jarvis might be down. I don’t know how to get him out of the suit-”

“I’m on my way,” Clint said.

“Someone please confirm what just happened?” Nat demanded.

“Thor landed and took down the robot with lightning,” Steve said, and sat heavily down next to Tony, tossing his shield so that it was still within reach, but out of his way. He ripped his cowl off as well for good measure. “I think we’re in the clear.”

“Coulson wants to know if Thor landed alone,” Natasha said.

“I don’t know. We can figure it out later. Come to the tarmac,” Steve said, and watched as Clint landed the Quinjet nearby. “We’re leaving as soon as we get Tony out of the suit. I want to take him to medical,” he said loudly over the sound of the engines.

“Roger that,” Natasha said.

The engines powered down to idle, and Clint jogged out, phone jammed to his ear.

“It’s where?” Clint asked, as he knelt next to Tony. Clint felt for a spot on the armor’s back.

“Hang on, let me put you on speaker,” Clint said, and put the phone on the ground.

“There should be a coin slot just below his right collar bone on the back,” Peter said, his voice tinny over the phone speaker.

Clint grunted, and prodded- a panel popped open. “Okay, got it- wait... is this... is this a nintendo controller?” he asked incredulously.

Steve peered at it. It did sorta look like a game controller. There were two buttons on the right hand side and directional keypad on the left.

“Officially? No. So it’s up up, down down, left right, left-”

Clint started pressing buttons. “The emergency release is the god damned Konami code?” he demanded.

Steve growled at him. “Language,” he scolded as he held Tony’s hand.

“You have to put it in twice,” Peter said.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, he needs to change this-”

“He says he will, but he never does. It’s been that way even before he gave me access-” Peter complained.

“Peter where are you?” Steve demanded.

“I’m in Bruce’s lab. I’m fine- we’re all fine-” Peter said instantly. “Darcy wants to know if Bucky’s okay, though.”

“He’s bruised, but he should be okay.”

“Stand back Cap. I don’t know how far this will blow,” Clint grunted, and kicked his phone clear. Steve brought his shield up just as Clint pressed the last buttons and rolled away.

There was a pause as they waited- then a loud popping noise and the armor’s front half launched itself down the tarmac.

“Tony!” Steve said loudly, and reached for his face- but Tony was out cold. Breathing. Alive. But not awake.

“Baby- wake up for me,” Steve begged, and ran fingers through Tony’s hair. “Come on- wake up for me.”

Tony remained out.

“Is he breathing?” Clint asked.

“Yes. But he’s not waking up,” Steve said, starting to grow frantic.

“Dad? What’s wrong with Ma?” Peter demanded, clearly shouting down the phone.

Clint and Steve exchanged a worried glance. “He’ll be fine Pete,” Clint said firmly, and hung up the phone. It started ringing about 2 seconds later. Clint turned it off, and stuffed it in a pocket.

“Wait- don’t move him yet,” Clint said, and jogged back to the Quinjet. He came back with a neck brace. “Just in case,” he said.

Steve nodded, and helped Clint get it on.

Natasha drove up on a golf cart and skidded to a stop.

“How is he? Do we have anything from Jarvis?” she asked.

There was horrible screeching of metal hitting metal somewhere behind him, and Steve turned to see Thor methodically smashing the robot’s head in with his hammer.

“Alive and no,” Steve said. “We need to move him to the Quinjet- BUCKY?” he called. “We’re leaving!”

Bucky nodded, and slowly got to his feet, his face carefully blank. Clearly Thor’s hammer had done more than knock him silly.

“Nat- check on Bucky,” Steve snapped, and carefully gathered Tony up. He sped walked to the Quinjet, Clint close on his heels, carrying his shield and cowl. He carefully set Tony down on the medical cot.

“Jarvis?” he demanded.

“Please state the nature of the emergency,” Jarvis said.

“He’s not waking up,” Steve said.

Jarvis was silent for a moment.

“I suggest doing a blood sugar test,” Jarvis said calmly. “Sir has not been eating very well over the last few days. He has not eaten for several hours."

Steve all but ripped open a cabinet, and got out a medical bag. He was pricking Tony’s finger as Bucky limped aboard, an arm over Natasha’s shoulder. “What’s happening?” he asked.

Steve ignored him, and carefully put the blood droplet on the test strip. A few seconds later, it beeped.

64*.

Clint, who’d been peering over his shoulder, tsked. “Stupid bastard,” he grumbled, and dug into a nearby cabinet. He pulled out another bag and dug into it. He came back up with two pouches.

“Steve?” Natasha demanded, and helped Bucky sit.

“Low blood sugar,” Steve said grimly, and helped Clint prepare an IV. He swabbed the inside of the arm with an alcohol wipe while Clint put a tourniquet on.

Thank god his hands couldn’t shake- he got the IV in one go.

“Nat? I need a couple of bars,” Steve said.

“On it,” she said, already digging into a bin.

“The beast is slain,” Thor boomed from the bottom of the ramp. “I trust Stark is doing well?”

“He’ll be fine,” Natasha said, and briskly handed out energy bars and juice boxes. “Juice box?” she offered.

“Perhaps another time,” Thor said, clearly amused.

Steve sat next to Tony’s legs on the cot and tried to calm his breathing between bites of an energy bar. The last thing they needed was for him to crash because he was missing his dinner. It was one of those things about being a super soldier. Once he got going, he could run or fight for basically forever, giving 110%. Hell, he could march for days without stopping if he had too. But once he stopped? Sat down for a minute? The adrenaline crash could be brutal.

Sugar and fat helped. Thus the bar. A juice box sat waiting for Tony once he woke up enough to drink something. The man wouldn’t touch the bars. Said they tasted terrible.

Which they _did_.

But he was going to try to wheedle the stubborn omega into taking a bite of one anyway.

Clint put a pulse oximeter on Tony’s finger, and double checked the numbers.

“I think we’re in the clear,” he said. “You coming along for the ride, big guy?” Clint shouted down the length of the jet.

“Actually, I am in search of Jane-” Thor said. “I merely stopped by the Tower to offer my greetings before I heard of your distress. More time has passed than I intended before my return. I am anxious to see her again.”

“Well, you’re in luck. She lives at the Tower with us now,” Steve said. “Tony’s got her set up in one of the labs.”

“Truly? I will come with you then,” Thor said, clearly pleased, and settled into a seat.

Nat hit a button and the back hatch closed- Clint took off not a moment later.

“We should have gotten his armor,” Nat muttered. “He’ll complain about it later.”

Steve snorted. “It’s mostly destroyed- Coulson having it for 10 minutes to box it up won’t tell them anything. Plus they have Rhodey. Why reverse engineer what they already have?”

Now Natasha snorted. “You’d make a horrible spy.” she said, and elbowed Steve on her way to the cockpit, who stopped staring at Tony long enough to give her an affronted look.

“Are you going to be useless, are you going to formally introduce him?” she asked quietly. 

“What? Oh- for pete’s sake- Bucky? This is Thor. He’s an alien prince from Asgard. He helped us with the Battle of New York. He’s an ally. Thor? This is Bucky- he’s my second in command.”

“Sorry about punching you earlier,” Bucky said quietly. “Didn’t know you were a friendly.”

“No need for apologies, my friend,” Thor said with a smile. “You were defending a fallen comrade. If I were you, I would have done much the same. I must say, though- not many have managed to knock me aside like that before. Would you agree to do some sparring later when you are healed? I think it would be... interesting.”

Bucky considered him. “Only if you lose the hammer,” he said.

“Consider it done.”

Steve watched them with wary relief. Thor was like an armored sunbeam. It was difficult to _ not _ be friends with him. Bucky though... he took a bit of effort sometimes. Maybe Thor would do him some good-

Tony grunted, and stirred.

“Tony?” Steve asked insistently, leaning over his mate.

Tony pried open an eye. “Wa? What’s happening?”

“I’ve got you baby. You’re safe-”

“Is that- what is that-” Tony glared at his IV.

“It’s just some stuff to make you feel better- don’t worry about it-”

“NO-” Tony tried to tug at the IV. “No meds-”

“_Settle_,” Steve barked, and grabbed for his hands. “You’re safe. You’re in the quinjet. We’re going home-”

“No!” Tony fought him. “Get off-” Tony shouted at him, and started to hyperventilate. “_ GET OFF _-”

“**Settle**,” Steve, repeated, using his alpha voice this time. Which normally would be the end of it-

“_NO _ ! Nat- I need- _ get away from me_!” Tony screamed back, and fought even harder.

Natasha viciously elbowed him. “Steve! _ Back off _\- Bucky?!”

One minute Steve was hovering anxiously over Tony, trying to hold him so he wouldn’t rip out his IV, and the next he was being lifted like a child in a bearhug from behind.

“Forgive me my friend. But I believe Stark needs some space-” Thor thundered right in Steve’s fucking ear.

“THOR! Put me down!” Steve struggled, as Thor carted him away.

“Be at peace. Stark is but confused. Give him a moment to remember his name. He will call for you when he is himself again.”

“He’s my _ mate _-” Steve protested. “I-”

“Then your inevitable reunion will be even more wondrous. He is safe, and surrounded by friends. We will be with your healers soon, yes? Be patient.”

“Stop being an idiot,” Bucky said and kicked him brutally in the shin. “You’re freaking your O out again. _ Stop it. _”

Steve growled at him a little, and Bucky kicked him again, but harder. “What did I just say? You’re stinking up the place. You’ll panic him even more. Don’t put him down yet Thor- he’ll just do something stupid.”

“I have found unreason to be common with those with an injured loved one,” Thor said conversationally, as if he wasn’t currently holding Steve like an oversized teddy bear. “I myself have suffered from it from time to time. It will pass soon enough. Be at ease, Steve Rogers- Stark will not come to further harm. If need be, I will take up arms to defend him. You have my word upon it.”

“Did you even tell him the kids were safe?” Bucky demanded. “Os always want to hear about the kids first thing.”

“No-” Steve protested bitterly. “He didn’t ask about them-”

“You should have told him anyway,” Bucky scolded.

“You have children Captain?” Thor asked, surprised.

“They’re new-” Bucky said.

“Congratulations!” Thor boomed, beaming.

Steve sighed, and physically bit back a retort of “only one is mine”. Which wasn’t fair. Or technically- not even true.

He settled for “They’re teenagers. Tony adopted them.”

“Officially?” Bucky asked, frowning at him.

“He’s Harley’s legal guardian apparently,” Steve said, somewhat sullenly. “Peter- he might as well be. Thor- you really _ can _ put me down now.”

“Wait-” Natasha said, sliding gracefully around Thor to face Steve. She frowned at him, and slowly, deliberately, flicked his right ear.

“Natasha-” Steve protested, eyes wide.

“He was freaking out because some medications have bad interactions with the palladium poisoning. He was trying to make sure we weren’t killing him by accident,” Natasha said firmly.

Steve stared. “But- he hasn’t had that for _ years _-” he complained.

She flicked his other ear, and he flinched a little. It _ hurt _-

“Which you could have_ told him _ if you _ listened _to him first,” she said pointedly. “Instead of trying to shush him.”

“He was confused Captain, as I told you he was,” Thor agreed. “Has Stark remembered himself?”

“Steve?” Tony called plaintively.

Thor dropped him like a rock, and moved aside, which was good because otherwise he would have kicked the demi-god right in the fucking balls-

“I’m right here baby,” Steve soothed, as he basically teleported over to the cot. He took one of Tony’s hands in his and kissed his forehead, breathing in his mate’s scent. “I’m here- the kids are safe-”

Tony sighed and pulled him closer. “I want to go home,” he complained.

“We’re on our way honey,” Steve cooed, and ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony sighed, and relaxed into the touch.

“Where’s my armor?” he asked after a moment.

“Coulson will box it up for you,” Steve said.

“You left it behind?” Tony demanded, affronted.

From his peripheral vision, he could make out Nat mouthing “told you” at him as she passed him by, deliberately hip checking him as she went. He ignored her.

“You passed out on the runway, baby-” Steve said. “You’re more important than your armor.”

Tony glared at him. “And no-one else thought to collect it while Steve was panicking?” he demanded loudly.

“I didn’t panic-” Steve denied.

“He totally panicked,” Bucky announced loudly, the traitor.

“I don’t understand- what even _ happened _?” Tony complained.

“Thor came through, which set off Jane’s equipment. He landed just in time to hit the robot with a lightning bolt,” Natasha said calmly, looking at something on her phone. “Which knocked it over. And then he hit it some more with his hammer. So it’s definitely dead now- is there a reason why Peter has called me 20 times?”

Steve sighed. “Call him for me?”

She dialed, then handed the phone over. Peter answered on the second ring.

“Nat?!” Peter shouted down the phone.

“Peter-”

“Dad? Is Ma okay?” Peter demanded, clearly on the verge of tears.

“He’ll be fine. Take a breath, honey.”

“Can I talk to him?” Peter asked, breathless.

Steve gave Tony a Look, and Tony all but snatched the phone from him. “I’m here sweetheart- I’m okay- no. No- I’m fine. _ Peter _-” Tony said, exasperated.

Steve snatched the phone back. “Peter?”

“I’ll meet you down at medbay-”

Steve took in Tony’s exhausted face and made a snap decision. “No. I want you to go to your room, and wait. We’ll call you after he’s had a chance to eat.”

“But-”

“Have you had dinner yet?” he demanded, checking the time. It was nearly six.

“No-” Peter whined. “Can’t I eat with Ma?”

“You can see him later,” Steve said firmly. The last thing Tony needed was taking care of a needy teenager. He at least needed a nap first. “Is Darcy there?”

“Yeah- but-”

“Let me talk to her.”

“But Daad-”

“I need to talk to Darcy-” Steve said firmly.

There was an apparent struggle on the other end of the phone.

“I heard that- _ Give it _\- don’t make me ...” there was some muffled shouting. Steve waited patiently.

“And go eat something!” Darcy shouted, clearly talking to someone on her end. “I’m here-” Darcy said breathlessly. “What do you need Steve?”

“Can you make sure Peter goes to his room and orders something?” Steve asked. “He needs to eat dinner.”

“Already on it. I’m guessing you want him kept out of your hair for a while?”

“If Bruce or Sam could take point on that, I would appreciate it. You should meet us there, though- I think Bucky’s broken a few ribs-”

From down the jet, Bucky made a noise of alarm. “STEVE-” he hissed. Betrayal was a two-way street. He ignored him.

“HE WHAT?”

“He’s alive and walking, but he’s in pain. Thor really got him good with that hammer of his-”

“THOR DID WHAT?! What _ happened _?” she shrieked.

“Miscommunication.”

“I am tasering that mother fucker-” she ranted loudly. Steve winced a bit, and held the phone away from his ear. He put a hand over the microphone. “Thor? It sounds like Darcy’s on the warpath. I think she’s going to try to tase you-”

“Oh?” Thor asked, nonplussed. “What has so disturbed my little lightning sister?”

“She’s my mate,” Bucky grunted.

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “It seems much has changed in my absence-” he caught sight of Bucky sulking. “I will be sure to make proper apologies,” he said. “Darcy is quick to anger, but equally quick to forgive. She is most spirited that way.”

Steve checked, but Darcy was still ranting. He sighed, and extended the phone. Thor was kind enough to pass it along to Bucky.

“Doll?” he tried. “Calm down I’m _ fine _-” he sighed. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Yes-”

“Is there a reason you’re keeping my pup from me, Rogers?” Tony demanded, irate.

“You need to eat something. And possibly take a nap,” Steve said firmly. “After we get some blood work done. You can see him later.”

“Blood work?” Tony parroted, alarmed. “What blood work?”

“I want them to check your vitamin levels like we did with Peter,” Steve said seriously.

Tony glared at him. “Absolutely _ not _-” he protested.

“_Tony _ -” Steve commanded, and Tony went quiet. Steve leaned in closer. “I try not to make the same mistake twice,” he said quietly, and ran a hand through his mate’s hair. “You fainted on the battlefield today. Something is- no- _ could be _ wrong. It would be-” he hesitated. “I would never forgive myself if you were sick and it was preventable,” he said seriously. “We almost waited too late with Peter. I won’t do it with you as well.”

Tony pursed his lips. “No hormones-” he complained.

“Your secret will stay safe,” Steve said, and gently touched their foreheads together. “I’ll have Bruce and Cho run the labs. I love you. _ Please _\- let me make sure you're okay.”

Tony sighed. “Alright,” he grumbled, clearly not happy about it. 

“Thank you,” Steve murmured, and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

When they landed Steve insisted on carrying Tony, despite his protests, and Bucky sullenly limped along behind. Apparently he’d caught an ankle wrong in his tumble down the runway.

“You’ll be fine,” Steve gently scolded him in the crowded elevator.

“Why’d you have to go and tell Darcy?” Bucky complained bitterly. “She’s gonna freak-”

Steve glanced at his ankle. “Would you rather I told her now, or after when the doctor yells at you for walking on a broken ankle?” he asked.

Bucky scowled at him. “It ain’t broke that bad,” he said mulishly. “It’ll be fine in half a day-”

Natasha smacked his shoulder. “I could have gotten you a wheelchair-” she scolded.

“I’m _ fine _\- I’ve had worse-” he groused. “It ain’t even bent weird.”

Tony snorted. “Do _ not _ tell Darcy that,” he said. “Can I take this stupid neck brace off now?” he whined.

“No,” at least three people chorused at once.

Tony gave a long suffering sigh.

They were met at the elevator by Darcy, Sam, and Jane as well as several nurses, and two gurneys.

“SIT,” Natasha ordered, and Bucky reluctantly took a seat. “He’s got a broken ankle and possible fractured ribs,” she said to a nurse, who nodded and wrote it on a chart.

“When did you break an ankle?” Darcy demanded angrily, descending in full force, and started fussing with his strappy jacket apparently intending to strip Bucky right there in the middle of the Medbay.

“JANE!” Thor bellowed joyfully, and went for a hug, only for Jane to smack him right in the face.

“Sorry- I just... I wanted to be sure you were real-” Jane said tearfully.

“Jane-” Thor started contritely.

She reared back and really let him have it this time, partially sobbing. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” she shouted.

Right... Steve put Tony on a gurney, and decided to ignore the dramatics going on behind him.

“Sam, try to make sure she doesn’t kill him,” he said as the nurses wheeled a whining Tony past.

“Dude- I predict they’re gonna be fucking in the next 10 minutes. I’ll try to make sure it’s not in public but I give no guarantees-” Sam said amiably, walking alongside them. “Bruce is babysitting Peter for now. You need anything?”

“Harley?” Tony asked from the stretcher.

“Still in his room, right where you left him,” Sam said cheerfully. “He is _ pissed _though. Not that I blame him. I called his mom- she’s going to try to put some stuff together and mail it out for him.”

“Great,” Tony grumped. “Can someone _ please _ take this neck thing off-”

Tony bitched for the next 10 minutes it took for them to do x-rays. He complained loudly and at length about the lead apron they offered not being big enough until Natasha appeared with a female version, and covered him up to his shoulders with it, at which point he seemed to relax a bit.

It took a moment for the reason to come to him. _ Of course _\- Tony had omega insides. He made a mental note to make sure that he got the omega version of the lead cape thing from now on.

The second the doctor cleared him from head and neck injuries, Tony ripped the neck brace off, and went for his IVs-

“No baby-” Steve leaned over him and basically laid on him, pinning him. “I’ll get you out in a minute. Let the nurse do that.”

“But-” the omega fussed.

Steve kissed him. “We’ll go get something to eat and then I’ll wash your hair. You want that? Some cheeseburgers and fries?” Steve murmured into his ear.

Tony huffed. “I want Burger King,” he demanded. “And a chocolate shake. And onion rings-”

“Your usual order is already on it’s way, sir,” Jarvis said from overhead.

“See? Just be patient,” Steve said, and kissed an earlobe.

Tony wouldn’t let him carry him once the doctors gave them the all clear. The omega glared at him and Steve found himself standing next to his mate in the elevator, flexing and unflexing his hands. Every instinct in him was demanding that he carry, protect, maybe even smother a little with affection.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” Tony demanded eventually. “You look like a crack addict who’s been clean for two hours.”

Steve took a breath. “I’m fine,” he lied, and then pointedly did NOT herd Tony to the kitchen island where several take out bags were. Nor did he put his omega in his lap and feed him- _ Jesus Christ _\- even he knew his instincts were being stupid right now.

He settled for sitting as close as possible to his mate without actually merging with him while they ate, and occasionally offering Tony a fry.

But instead of his mate being soothed by the meal, Tony seemed to be stewing about something, even occasionally throwing nervous glances at Steve. Steve waited until Tony had eaten at least half of his burger before bringing it up.

“You okay baby?” he asked gently. “You look upset.”

“I’m fine,” Tony groused, and pointedly took a long drink of his shake.

Steve pensively bit a lip. Was he upset because Steve hadn’t been the one to rescue him? He instantly dismissed that idea. Tony wasn’t like that.

Maybe he was upset because he hadn’t been able to save himself?

That seemed more likely. He slowly started on his second burger (even though he wanted to gobble it) so as not to give himself a stomach ache.

“Do you think Coulson will be calling you in to look at the robot?” he asked. The thought should cheer his mate up. He always loved figuring out new gadgets.

Tony huffed, and his scowl deepened. “Probably,” he said, disgruntled.

Steve chewed a fry and considered his mate.

“Are you going to upgrade your next suit?” Steve asked, going for another topic Tony often happily prattled on about for hours. “I was really impressed how the last one stood up to that thing’s lasers.” (It was more like he thanked god for his mate’s engineering while also trying not to lose his lunch watching his mate being hit.)

Another disgruntled grunt. “Going to have to,” he bitched.

Steve waited for the coming rant about alien technology and how it wrecked his “perfectly good” suit, or even an hour long explanation on how Tony had worked for weeks specifically making his suit alien-laser proof- and... nothing. He just glared at his onion rings like they owed him money. Okay, now _ something _ was seriously wrong.

He slowly turned things over in his head. There was one other possibility...

“Sweetheart- are you still mad at me about Harley?” he asked gently.

Now he got the full force of Tony’s glare.

“Am I still mad about Harley?” Tony demanded shrilly.

Steve’s brain went “Aha!” and “God damnit” simultaneously.

“Why would I still be angry about you body slamming a child in my kitchen? Or how I had to talk to the doctor afterwards, and talk him out of calling CPS on fucking_ Captain America? _ I’m sure that headline would play just _ swell _ on fucking _ Fox _,” Tony ranted sarcastically.

“I never should have done that,” Steve agreed instantly, metaphorically retreating. He’d never thought of the CPS angle- he winced a bit.

“It’s not like things with him aren’t hard enough already,” Tony complained bitterly. “And now he thinks-” he stopped, glared at Steve. “Just stay away from him.”

Steve shifted in his chair, and tried to bury a scowl. It’d been _ days _. And he’d been careful to give his mate some space. When would he let it go already?

“Are you going to be the guardian of Peter too?” he asked, trying to save the conversation.

Tony huffed. “I’m going to try,” he said. “I think I’m going to have to fight his Aunt for him though,” he said bitterly. “So watch yourself when she’s around. If she thinks Peter’s in danger here-”

Steve stiffened. “Why would she think he’s in danger?” he asked angrily.

“You have a temper,” Tony said eventually after a heated silence.

Steve breathed carefully, and closed his eyes. “I would _ never _-”

Tony snorted dismissively. “Whatever.”

Steve put down his food. “Are we going to talk about this?” he demanded.

“Talk about what?” Tony demanded hotly back.

“I screwed up. I get it. I reacted without thinking. _ I get it. _ I did it _ once _ \- and it’s been _ days _. I’ve apologized. I told you it wouldn’t happen again. What more do you want from me? What will it take for you to stop beating me over the head with this?”

“You body slammed a _ child- _” Tony roared, getting to his feet. .

“He challenged me! In my own territory! In front of Sam and Clint!” Steve roared back, also standing.

“You’re such a fucking... _ alpha _ !” Tony spat back, pointing a finger angrily at Steve’s chest. “He never would have challenged you if you hadn’t lost your stupid temper! What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, anyway? I was _ hugging _him, and you just flipped your shit- is Peter going to be next? Can I hug Peter? Or am I not allowed to hug people anymore?”

“That is _ not _ -” Steve stopped. “Peter is different, and you _ know _ it-”

“Really? Because you could have fooled me Steve-”

“I came home and found you hugging a strange alpha in the kitchen!”

“He’s a _ child _-”

“NO HE’S NOT!” Steve roared. “He’s not five, Tony! He’s a full grown god damned alpha, and you know it! I don’t _ know him _\- and you not only brought him into our pack, but you were all over him-”

“He was hurt!”

“You didn’t introduce him to me first! I didn’t even know he was coming! I didn’t even know he existed! You _ never _ talked about him- what was I supposed to think?”

Tony gaped at him. “I would _ never _ cheat on you-” he said, clearly affronted. “How could you even _ say _ that?”

“You keep things from me!” Steve said angrily. “Harley is just the start of it. You kick me out- don’t talk to me. How am I supposed to guard you and our nest if you don’t tell me things? How often have I found you hip deep in trouble? You can’t keep doing this!”

Tony sputtered. “I told you things moved fast with Harley! I signed things because I had to so that I could protect him! And then you were away on that stupid mission-”

“So you couldn’t have given me a heads up before I left? A simple, ‘hey there’s this kid I’m bringing over- don’t freak out he’s a really big alpha’-”

“I didn’t know!” Tony shouted back. “I had no idea! He was a _ beta _ when I left-”

“How do you even know him anyway?” Steve demanded. “When in your life have you _ ever _ been in Tennessee? Is he yours? Are you his father? Is this what this is about?”

“What? No! I- I can’t have fucking kids like that Steve- I’m sterile!” Tony shouted, then clapped a hand over his mouth, clearly horrified.

They both froze. He hadn’t meant to touch that nerve, _ god damn it. _

Tony rallied first. “I can, and will hug whoever the fuck I want to Steve,” he said, his voice brittle. “And if you don’t like it-”

Steve set his lips together. Willed himself to not shout. “That’s fine. That means that I can hug anyone I want as well, too,” he ground out.

Tony glared at him, suspicious. “Of course.”

“So then I guess I’ll call Pepper and let her know that you’re okay with me doing the charity photo shoot.”

“Photo shoot?”

“They want me to wear my speedo and my shield and do it with some omegas in bikinis. They said they got some of the X-men to agree to do it too-” Steve said, watching Tony calculatingly.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Omegas,” he repeated flatly. “In bikinis.”

Steve hummed. “You won’t see the speedo in the photos. I’m supposed to hold my shield-”

“So that it looks like you’re naked,” Tony finished for him, face faintly twitching.

“Oh? You’ve heard of it?” Steve fake smiled at him.

“They wanted me to hold my helmet,” Tony said, brittly.

Steve’s smile dropped.

They glared at each other for a minute, mexican standoff style.

“If you’re doing the photo shoot, then so am I,” Tony said.

Steve flexed and unflexed his hands. God, he was going to murder the next punching bag he saw.

“Fine,” he bit off eventually. He grabbed his plate, and angrily started to put his leftovers away, stewing. He could practically feel Tony also stewing at the kitchen island.

“Some guys at the fundraiser said that we should have dinner with Sunset Bain some time,” Steve said eventually, trying for neutral territory. “She’s in town for the summer-”

There was the sound of breaking glass, startled, Steve turned to find the remnants of the rose’s flower vase all over the floor.

“Tony?” Steve asked, half incredulous, half worried.

“We’re not having dinner with my god damned ex!” Tony exploded. “You can do your fucking photo shoot with your fucking omega whores, but you are not hugging god damn Sunset**!” he shouted.

“She’s your ex?” Steve asked, alarmed.

“Like you didn’t fucking know!” Tony shouted, pointing a finger accusingly at him.

“No, actually I didn’t! You want to know why? Because you don’t TELL ME THINGS!” Steve bellowed, throwing the towel he had in his hands into the sink angrily. “How the fuck was I supposed to know?”

“EVERYONE KNOWS!” Tony screamed. “Ty*** made damn sure of it!”

Steve threw his hands up. “Ty? I don’t even know who that _ is _\- you know I don’t follow the fucking tabloids-”

“He was the bane of my existence for fucking YEARS-”

“AND YOU’VE NEVER MENTIONED HIM!” Steve screamed back. “Again! You act like I should know these things- how can I _ possibly _ know these things-”

“_Everyone _ knows! How can you not-”

“I WAS FROZEN!”

They stopped for a second.

“You can’t hide behind that excuse forever,” Tony said icily. “That was _ years _ ago-”

“Three years,” Steve said stonily. “It’s been three years, Tony.” He stalked over.

“And this-” he gestured to the shattered remains of the vase, “_ this _ is why the ‘keeping things from me’ needs to STOP. It’s obvious, _ now_, that those guys were trying to fuck with me. They wanted me to surprise you with her. Said that it’d be good for your business- that she was an old friend- you might not know she was back in town.”

Tony stared at him, wide eyed, and Steve caged him against the island.

“I can’t protect you if you don’t _ let me in_,” Steve said, biting off the words. “I cannot do my fucking _ job _ as your alpha-”

“I don’t need protection!” Tony snarled back. “I’m god damned Iron Man!”

“You did today,” Steve said softly. “You did _today_,” he repeated and took a step back, while Tony gave him a furious death glare.

“That was an aberration-” Tony ranted, but Steve ignored him, taking in the wreck of the penthouse for the first time. The remains of a mess of a nest on the couch, surrounded by snack bags and other junk food containers. Flowers and glass all over the floor. Clothes in a heap next to the closet.

He pressed his lips together, and checked- yep. Tony had eaten his burger and most of his onion rings, and took in Tony’s defiant face.

He Decided. He picked up his squawking mate, threw him over a shoulder, and headed for the bedroom. He had to drag two large bears wearing his shirts off the bed (he’d think more about that later), and brush off yet more flower petals and crumbs off the sheets before dumping the loudly protesting omega on the bed. He ignored him, and started to take off Tony’s shoes.

“What- no! _ Stop_!”

Steve finished taking his shoes off, and gently grabbed Tony’s face, so that he would look him in the eye. “You are going to take a nap.” he said firmly.

Tony gaped at him. “I do not need a fucking NAP-” he protested, smacking Steve’s hand away.

“When did you go to bed last night?” Steve demanded, and Tony went from outraged to shifty in a millisecond flat. “Or the night before?”

“I’m _ fine _-” Tony snapped.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” Steve didn’t quite shout. “You’re not fine Tony! You think I don’t know what you self destructing looks like? I won’t let you go down this path again! So you are going to take a nap and I will clean up the penthouse. And then when you’re rested, I’ll wash your hair and we can go see Peter.”

“I am not taking a _ fucking _ nap-” Tony shouted back and angrily got out of bed.

Steve picked him up and tossed him back like a wayward fish. Tony sputtered as he landed in the middle of the bed. “Seriously? We’re doing this now? This is what we’re doing? This right here?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Steve said firmly. A part of him felt ridiculous, but he was serious. Tony needed rest. So therefore, he would fucking take a god damned nap.

Tony glared at him. He slowly and deliberately got off the bed on the opposite side of Steve, then stood there arms folded over his chest, clearly challenging him.

Steve huffed. “Now who’s playing games?” he demanded.

“Let me guess: ‘you can do this all day’,” Tony sneered.

Steve set his lips together. “If I have to.”

“Well, guess what, you don’t have to because I’m not playing this game. I’m leaving- and you’re not going to get in my way!” Tony demanded angrily.

Steve wondered if this is what people meant when they spoke of “feeling like tearing your own hair out”. But he was right. He would never win this way- Tony was too stubborn to submit to an oncoming force. He’d just meet it head on and keep beating his head against it until he or the thing in his way died. He needed to come at this differently.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, and moved aside so that Tony had a clear path to the door.

Tony eyed him suspiciously, his gaze flickering between his mate and the door. Steve could almost see his brain working the angles, trying to figure out the trap.

“So I’m leaving-” Tony repeated cautiously but firmly, and took a few steps around the bed, towards the door.

“Yep,” Steve said, not moving an inch.

Tony narrowed his eyes and took a few more steps. “I’m- I’m going to leave the penthouse,” he said, firmly, but definitely baffled. “I’m not going to take a nap.”

“Sure,” Steve said genially.

Another few steps. He was within arms reach now. Steve very carefully did not grab for him or make any sudden movements.

“I’m not obeying you,” Tony said, as if he wanted to be abundantly clear about this.

“I can see,” Steve said, as if he were making a comment on the weather.

Tony looked at him like he had two heads. “And you’re not stopping me,” he said.

“Nope.”

Steve almost had to fight a smile as he watched his mate’s brain nearly overheat as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Another step. He was almost out the door now. “So I’m just... going to go. And disobey my pack leader,” he said, in the tone of one about to poke the mystical glowing artifact to see what it does.

“So it would seem.”

Another step, smaller this time. One more and he’d be out the door. “And you’re just... letting me go,” Tony said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I can’t force you to accept my love, Tony.” Steve said. “If you don’t want me to take care of you, there’s not much I can do about that.”

Tony spun on the spot, suddenly furious again. “You’re going with guilt?” he demanded. “Seriously?”

Steve took a step back, arms spread. “I want to take care of you. But if you don’t want that- there’s the door,” he paused. “You keep fighting me when I try to take care of you. And you’ve been saying that you want to leave lately. I stopped you the first time. But I won’t keep you here if you’re not happy,” Steve said levelly. It took every ounce of self control he had not to puke after saying the words. But it was true. He couldn’t fight for this on his own. Tony had to want it too.

Tony looked like he’d been slapped. “What- you’re saying that if I leave now, that we’re over?” he demanded incredulously.

“Take a nap. _ Rest_. Let me wash your hair. We can go visit Peter afterwards,” Steve repeated himself gently. “Is anything I’m asking unreasonable? Unfair? Cruel? Is it anything you don’t need right now?”

Tony eyed him, the door, then the bed.

“I’m not going to do the photo shoot,” Steve said, making a peace offering. Now he had Tony’s full attention. “I never intended on doing it. I was just trying to make a point.”

“It was a shitty point,” Tony hissed.

Steve shrugged. “The thought of me being around strange omegas in bikinis obviously bothers you. So I’m not going to do it.”

Tony stared at him like he was trying to decode runes that controlled a nuclear missile. Steve wondered idly if it was possible to break the man like this. Just give him exactly what he wanted without a fight, and he practically fell over all on his own.

“Is this supposed to be some sort of reverse psychology thing or something?” Tony demanded. “You’re trying to make me feel bad? Because that won’t work you know. I’m a narcissist. Everyone knows this.”

“No. I care for you and your feelings so I’m not going to do it. Because I don’t want you to be unhappy,” Steve said, ignoring the narcissist part. This ‘everyone’ could eat a fucking dick- besides the fact that they were wrong. They just had to spend 2 seconds watching Tony and Peter interact to know it.

Tony stared at him, his jaw clenched. “It’s just- I don’t _ want _ to take a nap,” he said bitterly.

“Tony-” Steve said gently. “You’re clearly exhausted. Just- lay down for an hour. Please. _ Let me take care of you _.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me! I’m fine on my own!” Tony spat, with real venom this time.

Steve gestured to the door. “Then you know where to go,” he said tightly.

Tony stared at him for a moment. “So that’s it, huh? It’s just that simple?”

“Either you _ want _ to be my mate, or you don’t,” Steve said, and took a breath. “I know- I... we didn’t talk about this before I joined you for your heat for the first time. I just- I thought you wanted it- when you asked me. Maybe I was wrong,” Steve said, acid burning away at his insides as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Tony stared at him for a long moment, then walked over and sat on the bed. “Just so we’re clear, you’re an idiot,” he said dismissively. “I’m only doing this because you’re clearly still hysterical from the airport. I expect any second now for you to collapse from an overheated brain or something,” he said sarcastically. “And if you do that- Coulson will die from grief and then Fury will find someone who’s an even bigger pain the ass for me to deal with.”

Steve held back a sigh of relief, and instead hurried to help tuck Tony in. “Can’t have that,” Steve agreed, fighting to keep the smile off his face, and mostly losing. “That would be inconvenient.”

“You’re damn right. And if we’re doing this, I expect the full deluxe alpha package,” Tony said. “Don’t cheap out on me Rogers,” he complained. “If I wanted a basic alpha, I’d pick one up at the store. They practically sell them on street corners now. Most of them vibrate.”

“Oh?” Steve asked, and gently kissed the inside of Tony’s wrist, right over his scent gland. “And what are your demands, O Needy Omega?”

“I’m not walking _ anywhere _ for like the rest of the day, maybe tomorrow. You’re carrying me.”

“Of course,” Steve said, delighted. “You want breakfast in bed tomorrow?” Steve murmured, kissing his way up to Tony’s inner elbow.

“I want _ everything _ in bed,” Tony bitched.

Steve paused, and looked at his mate with such love and affection.

“What?” Tony demanded.

“Baby- all you had to do was ask,” Steve said sincerely, and kissed him senseless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *- normal blood sugar should be around 100ish. 70 is considered low. 64 while you’re fighting a giant robot is definitely low. Remember kids- eating breakfast is important. You never know if you’re going to be fighting robots and have to skip dinner, after also accidentally skipping lunch. 
> 
> ** If you’ve never heard of her, that’s fine. Sunset got together with Tony while he was at MIT. She “seduced him” (when he was 16 and she was 22 [ewwww...]) so that he would reveal his security codes for Stark Industries. Then stole from him so she could found her own company. So... yeah. Steve just walked right into that rake there. It was a well-hidden rake, but damn, was it a big one. 
> 
> ***Tiberius Stone. Tony's "rival" from his teenage years/early twenties. His greatest hits include sleeping with Tony's girlfriends, feeding lies to the tabloids, and being an overall douche. He had his reasons. Still a douche. 
> 
> Also, I think I need to say something about how Jane hits Thor. It’s not okay what she did. I HATED it when I saw it in the movie theater, and it still bugs me. It’s domestic violence, period. It doesn’t matter that she’s a tiny woman and he’s a huge, stacked dude. Hitting someone like that isn’t okay, regardless of gender. 
> 
> I seriously debated for like hours on whether or not to even include it. I decided to have it stay in because 1) Imaginary relationships don’t have to be perfect, 2) it’s “cannon”, and 3) maybe this is a good opportunity to show that even huge stacked dudes can be victims of domestic violence. So I left it in, and am leaving this note to put a big fat spotlight on it that says “THIS IS NOT OKAY”. /endpsa
> 
> Also, while we’re on the subject, blocking someone from leaving a room isn’t cool. So- not cool Steve. I’m calling you out buddy. 
> 
> I think that’s it. I put a cut here because our next POV is Tony and I know y’all been dying from the cliffhanger. Onwards and upwards people!


	50. Epiphanies and Burger King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re visiting Tony and getting his POV of the argument. As we’ll see, he had a very different experience of it. People often ask “Why don’t victims just leave?” and the answer is always always this: It’s complicated. 
> 
> Thankfully in this case, we can read Steve’s mind and know from our last chapter that he had good intentions- but that doesn’t happen in real life. So some rules for when you’re arguing with someone: Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t block the exits. Let them leave. Don’t raise your voice. Use “I” statements (I feel, I want, I need). Take a walk yourself if you have to. Don’t loom over them or try to intimidate them. 
> 
> And remember: It should NEVER be You Vs Me. It should be Us vs Problem. 
> 
> Unfortunately not everyone was raised to know these things. Tony and Steve could do with some therapy and maybe some marriage counseling.
> 
> Tags:  
Domestic Violence (fear of), Miss Communication does a tap dancing number for us. Miscarriage (fear of). And Harley’s back! *tambourine noises*
> 
> And editing? Yeah... no. I’m supposed to be making face masks right now. Ya’ll lucky you’re getting a chapter.

Tony grunted, and stirred.

“Tony?” That had to be Steve. He pried open an eye.

“Wa? What’s happening?”

“I’ve got you baby. You’re safe-”

“Is that- what is that-” Tony glared at his IV suspiciously.

“It’s just some stuff to make you feel better- don’t worry about it-”

He felt a surge of panic about that. Better meant Xanax. He couldn’t have xanax- _ the baby _-

“NO-” Tony tried to tug at the IV. “No meds-”

“_ Settle _,” Steve barked, and grabbed for his hands. “You’re safe. You’re in the quinjet. We’re going home-”

“No!” Tony fought him. “Get off-” Tony shouted at him, and started to panic. “_ GET OFF _-”

“**Settle**,” Steve said, with an alpha voice.

_ He’s going to kill my baby- _

“_ NO _ ! Nat- I need- _ get away from me _!” Tony screamed back, and fought even harder.

Natasha viciously elbowed him. “Steve! _ Back off _\- Bucky?!”

One minute Steve was there, fighting him, and the next, he was gone, and Nat was in his place.

“He’s gone,” she murmured, taking his hands. “You’re fine. Everyone’s fine.”

“Nat-” Tony hissed, “Nat- you have to take the IV out- I can’t- _ no meds. _”

“It’s just glucose,” Natasha said quickly. She glanced over her shoulder at whatever the fuck was happening down the jet, then leaned in close. “It’s fine. It won’t hurt the baby. It’s just going to bring your blood sugar up,” she murmured in his ear. “You fainted.”

And of course she knew. She _ always _ knew. How the fuck-

“No xanax?” Tony demanded, whispering.

She shook her head.

He relaxed.

She chewed a lip. “He doesn’t know?” she asked quietly.

Tony closed his eyes, then shook his head minutely. “Don’t have anything to tell yet,” he muttered. He squeezed her hand. “Cover for me?” he asked.

That got a quirk of a smile out of her. “When have I ever not?” she said.

Then she was off, loudly telling Steve some cover story about palladium. Seriously- where the fuck did she come up with this stuff?

The rest of the day passed in a blur. MedBay took way too long. He hated it there. It was cold and smelled weird from all the disinfectants. Not to mention he had to keep his guard up- the staff didn’t know his secondary gender and he had to keep it that way. He wasn’t an idiot.

People kept secrets for cute, earnest teenage superheroes who stammered and called you “sir.”

But not for Tony Stark. _ Never _ for Tony Stark. It would be on the front page of CNN in less than an hour if anyone found out.

And of course, Steve was well- Steve. Insisting on risky things like blood tests and x-rays and...

It was exhausting. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than a fucking cheeseburger and to curl up with Peter in a heavily fortified nest somewhere.

Instead he got a cheeseburger and Steve sitting almost too close to him while they sat at the kitchen island.

“You okay baby?” he asked gently. “You look upset.”

“I’m fine,” Tony groused, and pointedly took a long drink of his shake. His hands, he noticed, weren’t shaking- which was surprising. Things had gotten close out there on the tarmac. Too close.

Much too close.

If that thing’s foot had come down on him- if he’d gotten badly hurt-

He might lose the baby.

He wasn’t a complete idiot. There was a reason the trope for abusive husbands was throwing a pregnant woman down the stairs. You hurt the mother enough and there was a chance the body would just... expel things. To help survival or something.

How much shock absorption would be enough to protect a baby?

He remembered hitting those trees in Tennessee. Going to space. Alphas with fiery hands. A beta with an electric whip-

His gut instinct was that there weren't enough resources in the world for that. It would never be enough. Even if he did- and he still got hurt- _ Jesus. _

On the other hand- he could do everything right. Live in a bubble. And he might lose it anyway_. _It happened. _And he _was _getting_ _old-_

The thought made him feel even sicker. He slowed down on the onion rings.

“Do you think Coulson will be calling you in to look at the robot?” Steve asked.

It took a second for the sentence to register. He huffed. Great. ANOTHER thing for him to do. “Probably,” he said, disgruntled.

“Are you going to upgrade your next suit?” Steve asked. “I was really impressed how the last one stood up to that thing’s lasers.”

Tony grunted, “Going to have to,” he bitched. The turtling problem was now no longer a minor glitch but a major hazard. If he’d been slower- if he hadn’t been able to right himself- if Thor hadn’t come-

_ It would have stomped right on his stomach. _

He glared at the onion rings. Great. He _ had _ been hungry but _ now _-

Ugh. He was tired. Couldn’t he just... hibernate or something until things weren’t so crazy?

“Sweetheart- are you still mad at me about Harley?” Steve asked gently.

Tony whipped round, suddenly full of fury. “Am I still mad about Harley?” he demanded shrilly. “Why would I still be angry about you body slamming a child in my kitchen? Or how I had to talk to the doctor afterwards, and talk him out of calling CPS on fucking_ Captain America? _ I’m sure that headline would play just _ swell _ on fucking _ Fox _,” Tony ranted sarcastically.

“I never should have done that,” Steve agreed readily. He looked like he was already regretting bringing it up.

“It’s not like things with him aren’t hard enough already,” Tony complained bitterly. “And now he thinks-” he stopped. _ He thinks you hit me, _ wouldn’t help anyone. “Just stay away from him.”

“Are you going to be the guardian of Peter too?” he asked.

UGH. Another thing he needed to do.

Tony huffed. “I’m going to try,” he said. “I think I’m going to have to fight his Aunt for him though,” he said bitterly. “So watch yourself when she’s around. If she thinks Peter’s in danger here-”

“Why would she think he’s in danger?” Steve demanded.

_ Because you fucking body slammed my kid. _

“You have a temper,” Tony said eventually after a heated silence.

“I would _ never _-”

Tony didn’t have the energy to play this game. “Whatever,” it came out a little more snidely than he’d intended.

Steve put down his food. “Are we going to talk about this?” he demanded.

“Talk about what?” Tony demanded hotly back. He could smell the man’s frustration.

“I screwed up. I get it. I reacted without thinking. _ I get it. _ I did it _ once _ \- and it’s been _ days _. I’ve apologized. I told you it wouldn’t happen again. What more do you want from me? What will it take for you to stop beating me over the head with this?”

“You body slammed a _ child- _” Tony roared, getting to his feet.

“He challenged me! In my own territory! In front of Sam and Clint!” Steve roared back, also standing.

Well, that was the most bullshit alpha thing Tony had _ ever _ heard-

“You’re such a fucking... _ alpha _ !” Tony spat back, pointing a finger angrily at Steve’s chest. “He never would have challenged you if you hadn’t lost your stupid temper! What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, anyway? I was _ hugging _him, and you just flipped your shit- is Peter going to be next? Can I hug Peter? Or am I not allowed to hug people anymore?”

“That is _ not _ -” Steve stopped. “Peter is different, and you _ know _ it-”

“Really? Because you could have fooled me Steve-”

“I came home and found you hugging a strange alpha in the kitchen!”

“He’s a _ child _-”

“NO HE’S NOT!” Steve roared. “He’s not five, Tony! He’s a full grown god damned alpha, and you know it! I don’t _ know him _\- and you not only brought him into our pack, but you were all over him-”

“He was hurt!”

“You didn’t introduce him to me first! I didn’t even know he was coming! I didn’t even know he existed! You _ never _ talked about him- what was I supposed to think?”

Tony gaped at him. “I would _ never _ cheat on you-” he said, offended. “How could you even _ say _ that?”

“You keep things from me!” Steve said angrily. “Harley is just the start of it. You kick me out- don’t talk to me. How am I supposed to guard you and our nest if you don’t tell me things? How often have I found you hip deep in trouble? You can’t keep doing this!”

Tony sputtered. “I told you things moved fast with Harley! I signed things because I had to so that I could protect him! And then you were away on that stupid mission-”

“So you couldn’t have given me a heads up before I left? A simple, ‘hey there’s this kid I’m bringing over- don’t freak out he’s a really big alpha’-”

“I didn’t know!” Tony shouted back. “I had no idea! He was a _ beta _ when I left-”

“How do you even know him anyway?” Steve demanded. “When in your life have you _ ever _ been in Tennessee? Is he yours? Are you his father? Is this what this is about?”

“What? No! I- I can’t have fucking kids like that Steve- I’m sterile!” Tony shouted, then clapped his hands over his mouth, horrified.

They both froze. Tony hadn’t meant to say that- not even _ Rhodey _ knew that- the great and mighty Tony Stark shot blanks, and could never father a child. A relief when he was younger (it’d saved him from getting a vasectomy)- an occasional regret when he was with Pepper...

Tony rallied first. “I can, and will hug whoever the fuck I want to Steve,” he said, his voice brittle. “And if you don’t like it-”

“That’s fine. That means that I can hug anyone I want as well, too,” Steve ground out.

Tony glared at him, suspicious. “Of course.”

“So then I guess I’ll call Pepper and let her know that you’re okay with me doing the charity photoshoot.”

“Photoshoot?”

“They want me to wear a speedo and my shield and do it with some omegas in bikinis. They said they got some of the X-men to agree to do it too-” Steve said, watching Tony carefully.

Tony’s eyes narrowed, even as he felt his stomach sink. “Omegas,” he repeated flatly. “In bikinis.”

_ You knew it wouldn’t last- you’re not a _ real _ omega anyway- _

He pushed the thought aside.

Steve hummed. “You won’t see the speedo in the photos. I’m supposed to hold my shield-”

“So that it looks like you’re naked,” Tony finished for him, face faintly twitching.

“Oh? You’ve heard of it?” Steve fake smiled at him.

“They wanted me to hold my helmet,” Tony said, brittly.

Steve’s smile dropped.

Aha! So that worked. Maybe he needed to play up the jealousy angle? Then again, that could be dangerous. Go too far with that game and you wound up on a mattress on the floor chained to a radiator with all your hair hacked off.

They glared at each other for a minute, mexican standoff style.

“If you’re doing the photoshoot, then so am I,” Tony said, and watched as Steve clench and unclench his fists. It took every bit of willpower he had to not take a step back. He was playing with serious fire here-

“Fine,” Steve growled, picked up his plate and stormed over to the sink. To Tony’s surprise, he didn’t slam it into the sink.

“Some guys at the fundraiser said that we should have dinner with Sunset Bain some time,” Steve said. “She’s in town for the summer-”

There were games, and then there was outright war. Tony picked up the flower vase from the table and slammed it on the ground in a fit of temper.

“Tony?” Steve asked, playing dumb. Oh- that made his blood _ boil- _

“We’re not having dinner with my god damned ex!” Tony exploded. “You can do your fucking photoshoot with your fucking omega whores, but you are not hugging god damn Sunset!” he shouted. Would that fucking omega NEVER stop fucking with his life?

“She’s your ex?” Steve asked, pretending to be surprised. He was a damn good actor.

“Like you didn’t fucking know!” Tony shouted, pointing a finger accusingly at him. Steve wasn’t the first to play this sort of game with him. People were _ always _ playing these fucking games with him- when the fuck would it _ stop _?

“No, actually I didn’t! You want to know why? Because you don’t TELL ME THINGS!” Steve bellowed, throwing the towel he had in his hands into the sink angrily. “How the fuck was I supposed to know?”

“EVERYONE KNOWS!” Tony screamed. “Ty made damn sure of it!”

Steve threw his hands up. “Ty? I don’t even know who that _ is _\- you know I don’t follow the fucking tabloids-”

“He was the bane of my existence for fucking YEARS-”

“AND YOU’VE NEVER MENTIONED HIM!” Steve screamed back. “Again! You act like I should know these things- how can I _ possibly _ know these things-”

“_ Everyone _ knows! How can you not-”

“I WAS FROZEN!”

They stopped for a second.

“You can’t hide behind that excuse forever,” Tony said icily. “That was _ years _ ago-”

“Three years,” Steve said stonily. “It’s been three years, Tony.” He stalked over..

“And this-” he gestured to the shattered remains of the vase, “_ this _ is why the ‘keeping things from me’ needs to STOP. It’s obvious, _ now _, that those guys were trying to fuck with me. They wanted me to surprise you with her. Said that it’d be good for your business- that she was an old friend- you might not know she was back in town.”

Tony stared at him, wide eyed, and Steve caged him against the island.

“I can’t protect you if you don’t _ let me in _ ,” Steve said, biting off the words. “I cannot do my fucking _ job _ as your alpha-”

“I don’t need protection!” Tony snarled back. “I’m god damned Iron Man!”

“You did today,” Steve said softly. “You did today,” he repeated and took a step back, while Tony gave him a furious death glare.

“That was an aberration-” Tony ranted. He was so caught up in his own fury that he let his guard down, and didn’t start struggling until he was already slung over Steve’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

_ Oh god- _

“STEVE-” Tony shrieked, panicking. “Put me down! STEVE!”

Confusingly, the man didn’t smell angry. Just determined. _ What the fuck- _

Steve ignored him and threw him on the bed. The larger alpha easily captured a foot, and started taking Tony’s shoes off. Tony struggled- trying to get away but also not kick Steve in the face- there’d be no telling what he’d do then. He’d gone too far somehow. This was it. He was going to be tied to the god damned headboard or something-

“What- no! _ Stop _!”

Steve ignored his flailing arms and grabbed his chin. “You are going to take a nap.” he said firmly.

Tony gaped at him. That hadn’t been one of the options he was anticipating. “I do not need a fucking NAP-” he protested automatically and angrily smacked Steve’s hand away.

“When did you go to bed last night?” Steve demanded, and Tony started looking for the exits- “Or the night before?”

“I’m _ fine _-” Tony snapped.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” Steve didn’t quite shout. “You’re not fine Tony! You think I don’t know what you self destructing looks like? I won’t let you go down this path again! So you are going to take a nap and I will clean up the penthouse. And then when you’re rested, I’ll wash your hair and we can go see Peter.”

“I am not taking a _ fucking _ nap-” Tony shouted back and angrily got out of bed. He needed to get out. He needed-

Steve picked him up and tossed him back like he weighed nothing. Tony sputtered as he landed in the middle of the bed. “Seriously? We’re doing this now? This is what we’re doing?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Steve said firmly.

Tony glared at him. He slowly and deliberately got off the bed on the opposite side of Steve, then stood there arms folded over his chest, and tried to not hyperventilate. He had faced down an entire Senate hearing. He could confront one _ stupid _ alpha-

Steve huffed. “Now who’s playing games?” he demanded.

“Let me guess: ‘you can do this all day’,” Tony sneered, and immediately regretted it. _ Stupid stupid stupid- just keep poking at the angry alpha, Tony. _

Steve set his lips together. “If I have to.”

“Well, guess what, you don’t have to because I’m not playing this game. I’m leaving- and you’re not going to get in my way!” Tony shouted.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said after a moment, and moved aside so that Tony had a clear path to the door.

The move practically gave him emotional whiplash.

What the _ fuck? _

Tony eyed him suspiciously. There had to be a trap somewhere. An angle. He just didn’t know what it could be- and he couldn’t properly scent his mate from here. There was no clue as to the man’s true intentions.

“So I’m leaving-” Tony repeated cautiously, and took a few experimental steps around the bed, towards the door. He half expected Steve to lunge for him any minute now-

“Yep,” Steve said, not moving an inch.

Tony narrowed his eyes and took a few more steps. “I’m- I’m going to leave the penthouse,” he said, firmly. Some of his confusion leaked through. “I’m not going to take a nap.”

“Sure,” Steve said. Reasonably. As if they hadn’t been screaming at each other not 2 seconds ago.

What was his _ game _?

Another few steps. If the alpha wanted to, he could make a grab for him- Tony tried to make it not obvious that he was bracing himself for the possibility-

“I’m not obeying you,” Tony said, waiting for the guillotine to fall.

“I can see,” Steve said.

“And you’re not stopping me,” Tony said, not believing a word.

“Nope.”

Another step. He was almost out the door now. “So I’m just... going to go. And disobey my pack leader,” he said. This didn’t feel right. Nothing was happening. Something should be happening-

“So it would seem.”

Another step, smaller this time. One more and he’d be out the door. “And you’re just... letting me go,” Tony said, eyeing him suspiciously. Why wasn’t he angry anymore? The fact that he couldn’t anticipate what was going to happen next was somehow the worst part.

“I can’t force you to accept my love, Tony.” Steve said. “If you don’t want me to take care of you, there’s not much I can do about that.”

Tony spun on the spot, suddenly furious again. “You’re going with guilt?” he demanded. “Seriously?” He wasn’t sure if he was more angry or offended with Steve’s new tact.

Steve took a step back, arms spread. “I want to take care of you. But if you don’t want that- there’s the door,” he paused. “You keep fighting me when I try to take care of you. And you’ve been saying that you want to leave lately. I stopped you the first time. But I won’t keep you here if you’re not happy,” Steve said levelly.

“What- you’re saying that if I leave now, that we’re over?” he demanded incredulously. He hadn’t been expecting this. Steve was breaking all the rules. Alphas should fight to keep an omega home, not hold the door open for them after an argument. What the _ fuck _ was _ happening _ right now?

“Take a nap. _ Rest _. Let me wash your hair. We can go visit Peter afterwards,” Steve repeated himself gently. “Is anything I’m asking unreasonable? Unfair? Cruel? Is it anything you don’t need right now?”

Tony eyed him, the door, then the bed. This was... leaving was an omega’s trump card. Not an alpha’s.

What the fuck was_ happening _ right now?

“I’m not going to do the photoshoot,” Steve said. Now he had Tony’s full attention. “I never intended on doing it. I was just trying to make a point.”

“It was a shitty point,” Tony hissed.

Steve shrugged. “The thought of me being around strange omegas in bikinis obviously bothers you. So I’m not going to do it.”

Tony stared at him blankly. Had the alpha hit his head on the tarmac while he wasn’t looking?

“Is this supposed to be some sort of reverse psychology thing or something?” Tony demanded. “You’re trying to make me feel bad? Because that won’t work you know. I’m a narcissist. Everyone knows this.”

“No. I care for you and your feelings so I’m not going to do it. Because I don’t want you to be unhappy,” Steve said, as if he was back to being the reasonable one.

Tony stared at him, his jaw clenched. “It’s just- I don’t _ want _ to take a nap,” he said bitterly, but that was a lie. He probably could take a nap right now, but he’d be damned if he took a nap just because _ Steve told him too. _

“Tony-” Steve said gently. “You’re clearly exhausted. Just- lay down for an hour. Please. _ Let me take care of you _.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me! I’m fine on my own!” Tony spat, scared.

Steve gestured to the door. “Then you know where to go,” he said tightly.

Tony stared at him for a moment. “So that’s it, huh? It’s just that simple?”

“Either you _ want _ to be my mate, or you don’t,” Steve said, and took a breath. “I know- I... we didn’t talk about this before I joined you for your heat for the first time. I just- I thought you wanted it- when you asked me. Maybe I was wrong,” Steve said, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Tony stared at him for a long moment. Someone had to give. It wouldn’t be Steve. Steve didn’t know how. If Tony left- (not that he _ really _ wanted to leave but...) Steve was a man of his word. There would be no chasing after him, no rushed apologies- just a fucked up mess and a fallout that would probably nuke the pack...

And he had a possible baby now. Plus Peter. And Harley. The math here wasn’t calculus. If anything it was basic addition.

He eyed the bed. A nap. Would it be so bad?

He swallowed his pride, then walked over and sat on the bed. “Just so we’re clear, you’re an idiot,” he said dismissively. “I’m only doing this because you’re clearly still hysterical from the airport. I expect any second now for you to collapse from an overheated brain or something,” he said sarcastically. “And if you do that- Coulson will die from grief and then Fury will find someone who’s an even bigger pain the ass for me to deal with.”

Steve hurried to help tuck Tony in. “Can’t have that,” Steve agreed, smiling like an idiot. “That would be inconvenient.”

“You’re damn right. And if we’re doing this, I expect the full deluxe alpha package,” Tony said. “Don’t cheap out on me Rogers,” he complained. “If I wanted a basic alpha, I’d pick one up at the store. They practically sell them on street corners now. Most of them vibrate.”

“Oh?” Steve asked, and gently kissed the inside of Tony’s wrist, right over his scent gland. “And what are your demands, O Needy Omega?”

_ It would be alright now. _He could breathe again.

“I’m not walking _ anywhere _ for like the rest of the day, maybe tomorrow. You’re carrying me.”

“Of course,” Steve said, delighted. “You want breakfast in bed tomorrow?” Steve murmured, kissing his way up to Tony’s inner elbow.

“I want _ everything _ in bed,” Tony bitched.

Steve paused, and looked at Tony with so much clear affection it almost made him uncomfortable.

“What?” Tony demanded.

“Baby- all you had to do was ask,” Steve said, and kissed him senseless.

****************

Tony laid face down on the bed, and tried not to suffocate in the mattress. It was shockingly more work than he’d expected. It probably had something to do with the fact that his bones were jello and he couldn’t exactly feel his legs or his fingers right at the moment. They had either stopped functioning or there was a feedback loop somewhere because all he could feel was like a static tingle, especially in his toes.

His dick, he was sure, had fallen off and was somewhere on the floor. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

A stinging sensation on his back made him grunt and expend the massive effort required to turn his head.

Oh- Steve.

The man was lying between Tony’s spread legs and was very meticulously covering every square inch of his back with hickeys and bite marks.

He rolled his eyes. _ Jesus Christ _. Alphas and their god damn oral fixations.

He sighed deeply, as Steve found a mark he particularly liked and lavished it with kisses, and what felt like a little bit of tongue.

Tony felt oddly that he should be upset about something. Something...

It’d come to him. Eventually.

He laid there for a while.

Broken.

The thought occurred to him again. He was upset...

No. He was busy. _ So _ busy. _ Too _busy. He had things he had to do. And Steve-

_ And Steve- _

“Stee” he grunted, trying to get his face to work.

Steve either ignored him or didn’t hear him.

“STeve!” he tried again.

“Hmm?” Steve responded, nibbling at a spot right above his ass.

“What- what the _ fuck _-” Tony slurred.

The nibbling stopped. “Tony?”

“What the _ actual fuck _ was that Steve?” Tony demanded, growing angrier.

“What’s wrong?”

“What-” Tony sputtered. “Everything! Everything is wrong right now!” he complained bitterly.

“Baby- I don’t understand-”

“We’ve been mated for _ months-” _Tony spat bitterly. “MONTHS!”

“What-” he could smell the man’s confusion.

“And you literally chose NOW to finally fuck me properly? What the _ FUCK _ is wrong with you?”

“_What? _”

“You couldn’t have done this months ago?” Tony demanded. “You had to do this now? _ Really Steve _ ? I have work to do! I literally have a list longer than your god damn dick of things I need to do and NOW is when you choose to finally, _ actually _, fuck me?”

After a moment of stunned silence, Steve chose to bury his sniggers in Tony’s back.

“I’m being serious!” Tony complained. “When I said I didn’t want to walk, I didn’t mean like THIS! How the _ fuck _ am I supposed to get anything done?”

“I could carry you,” Steve suggested snarkily, and kissed his side. “It _ is _ part of the deluxe alpha package,” he said, and Tony was sure that astronauts on the ISS could hear the alpha’s smugness.

“Steeeve,” Tony whined plaintively, and huffed. “It’s not _ fair _ ! We could have been doing this back in _ December _-” he complained bitterly. “But I have teenagers now! Plural!”

Steve hummed meditatively, and kissed his way up Tony’s spine, making him shiver.

“You need me to knot you like that more often baby?” Steve murmured hotly in an ear, and kissed a shoulder.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Your knot isn’t going to bring world peace,” he said witheringly.

“Hmmm... but it seems to have made you happy,” Steve said. Again- with the smugness.

“I didn’t say _ no _-” Tony objected quickly.

Steve nibbled an earlobe and rumbled._ Oh god _ \- he could _ taste _ the alpha’s happiness. A brush from the man’s hips against his ass, however, revealed the alpha’s true intentions. Tony groaned. “You need it again baby?” Steve asked, his tone sultry, and his scent turned lustful.

“Steve-” Tony protested. “My legs will fall off,” he complained. “This will be, what- round 4? How do you even still have blood flow to your brain right now?”

“Don’t need it to fuck you,” Steve growled, right into his ear. “And carrying you is part of the package, remember?” Steve wheedled. “I can go as many times as it takes to make sure my omega’s been taken care of- _ properly _ ,” he murmured. There went those hips again, grinding this time. Jesus Christ, the man was already hard- ( _ how the fuck? _) making Tony shudder.

“Alpha-” Tony whined. And god help him, he was actually considering it-

“Forgive me sirs,” Jarvis said from the ceiling apologetically. They both froze.

“Jarvis, whatever is on fire, the X-men can take care of it,” Steve snarled.

“I do apologize. However, I feel that you should be warned that Peter is on his way up.”

Now they froze again, but for completely different reasons.

“Jarvis?” Tony demanded, alarmed.

“He has been asking for access for the last few hours, sir,” Jarvis said. “I have denied him, and cited your privacy-”

“Then where is he coming from?” Tony demanded, confused.

“The emergency stairwell. I estimate you have another 5 minutes before his arrival.”

“The stairs?” Tony asked, confused. “He doesn’t have clearance-”

Steve swore. “_ I _ gave him clearance. It was supposed to be for emergencies so he could reach the safe room if he needed to-”

“He is most upset right now,” Jarvis said. “I have told him repeatedly that you are well, and not to be disturbed, but he simply will not listen to me. He believes that I am lying to him about the extent of your injuries to keep him from going into distress.”

Tony swore, and tried to get up and failed. He turned and smacked at Steve’s shoulder, largely missing. “STEVE!” he hissed.

The alpha sighed. “I’ll put on some pants and head him off at the door-” he said grudgingly.

“What? No! I mean- I can’t cuddle with him when I’m fucking covered in your god damn jizz! FIX THIS!”

Steve blinked at him. “Tony?”

“It’s_ your fault _ my legs don’t work. HELP ME!” Tony hissed at him, full of indignant fury. “_I _ wanted to see him earlier, but noooo- you and your fucking _ knot _-”

Steve gave a long sigh, and kissed a shoulder blade. “Yes dear,” he said.

After the worlds’ fastest wipe down with a warm wash rag, Steve helped him into some boxers and one of Steve’s t-shirts. Steve carried him to the sofa, and parked him on one of the ends.

“Go clean out the bedroom,” Tony ordered. “He’ll probably need to sleep here tonight-”

“Yes omega,” Steve said contritely, and got one last kiss in. The sound of a door opening sent his naked self scampering back to the relative safety of the bedroom.

“Ma?” Peter called out tearfully. Damnit, he could smell the kid’s upset from here.

“Over here baby-” Tony called, and held out his arms. “Come here-”

Peter didn’t quite knock Tony’s breath from him, when he launched himself at the sofa, but it was a close thing.

“Ma! I’m so sorry!” Peter sobbed, and buried his face in Tony’s neck. “It’s all my fault!”

“Hey- calm down. Breathe,” Tony scolded gently, and let Peter glob onto him, settling him in his lap. The boy wasn’t heavy but he was a bit gangly. He stroked his hair and shushed him.

“I’m okay honey. I’m fine. Just a bit banged up that’s all-” Tony tried to reassure him.

“I’m so sorry-!”

Tony frowned down at the boy in confusion. “Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“It was my idea- to- to use my webs- I- I should have been there-” Peter sobbed.

The thought of Peter being cut in half by the lasers filled Tony with a kind of horror he’d never experienced before.

“No!” he said firmly. “Absolutely not!”

“But-”

“Listen to me,” Tony said, and squeezed the boy tightly to his chest. “If that had been you, you would be dead right now, you hear me? That thing nearly cut through my armor and your suit isn’t rated for _ anything _ like that-”

A fact he’d have to work on.

“It would have cut you right in half,” he said firmly. “I took the hit. Not Steve. Not Bucky. I was armored. I was flying. I was in my latest suit, and even then it took me down. Thor had to hit it with literal lightning to kill it. You-” Tony shook his head. “You’re not ready for that, baby. You’re not equipped for it- you don’t have the experience- Steve couldn’t even dent it with his shield- I would _ never _ let you within 10 miles of that fucking thing, you hear me?”

Peter sniffed miserably. “But- I- it was my idea-” he protested weakly.

“And it was a good one. It worked! If we didn’t have your web shooters we would have used something else. We didn’t even _ know _ it had lasers until it was too late- and I couldn’t avoid it because my boot was malfunctioning, which was NOT your fault-” Tony took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “It wasn’t your fault. Period,” he said, his voice iron. “I don’t want to hear it again. You understand me? I’m ruling that it wasn’t your fault. My decision is final.”

Peter sniffed. “Yes omega,” he said quietly.

“Good boy,” Tony grunted, and sighed deeply, burying his face in Peter’s hair. It still took a few minutes for Peter to calm his breathing down.

In the meantime, it gave Tony plenty of time to stew.

What if he’d been hurt? Seriously, majorly hurt? Never mind the baby- Peter was _ sick_. If he’d been seriously hurt- would Peter be able to recover from that? He’d been almost in damn near hysterics over a few bumps and bruises that (honestly) weren’t even from the god damned robot.

Would they have to drug him again, maybe even feed him through IVs? They said that high strung omegas, especially young ones, still high on hormones and lacking experience and perspective were higher risks for everything from suicide to self-harm.

Not that he thought that _ Peter _ would-

_ Right? _

He’d not been eating enough because some offhand comments his Aunt had made. Nearly starved himself- not to death but damn near close enough to it give both himself and Tony a heart attack. Maybe literally in Peter’s case. They still weren’t sure why his heart had stopped.

They’d hoped it was the medication...

He needed to rethink things. Seriously rethink things.

Never in his life had he seriously considered _ not _ being Iron Man. Sure- there were times that Pepper had begged him, but his solution had been making the suit better. Safer. More shock absorption. Whatever.

But now?

_ Maybe it was time. _

There was just so much to _ do _. He still needed to find the boy a teacher. And Harley. That kid needed his diploma. He needed to call the school. Needed to upgrade the Spider-Man armor. Needed to check back with Jarvis about MIT. And the property there- and the Tower. They’d run out of living quarters. He needed to clear out storage floors and have them converted. More construction.

He needed -

_He didn’t know how he was going to do this._

Steve eventually emerged from the bedroom with pajamas on this time. “He okay?” he mouthed.

Tony shook his head.

Steve frowned at him, and gently put a hand to Tony’s cheek. “You okay baby?”

Tony shook his head again, tears in his eyes.

Steve bit a lip, considering them.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said gently, and rubbed a hand on Peter’s back. “You hungry? You have dinner?”

Peter sniffed miserably. “Had tacos,” he muttered, still buried in Tony’s neck.

“Jarvis, how many more calories does he need today?” Steve asked.

“The Young Master needs to consume an additional 1,500 calories to meet his goals,” Jarvis said.

Tony frowned. “Did you miss lunch or something?” he asked.

Peter sniffed, and shrugged listlessly.

“He did not finish his dinner,” Jarvis said. “He said he was too upset to eat. He has also not had his nighttime snack yet.”

Tony and Steve exchanged a Look.

“I’ll make you a shake, okay?” Steve said, and ruffled Peter’s hair. “You want chocolate and peanut butter again?”

Peter shrugged listlessly again, not moving from Tony’s neck.

“Make it vanilla,” Tony said. “And go easy on the ice cream. I don’t want to upset his stomach.”

Steve nodded, and kissed the back of Peter’s head before wandering off into the kitchen.

Another thing that needed doing, apparently, was a closer watch of Peter and his calories. The sheer number of what he needed in a day was staggering- it was slightly more than what Steve needed in a day, and the man could put away several whole large pizzas in one sitting. You couldn’t just start eating like that overnight without getting sick or serious stomach aches.

Maybe he needed to make a more in depth plan with the dietician. Build him up gradually. More calorie dense foods or something. What was the doctor’s name?

Tony couldn’t remember.

And Harley- he couldn’t forget him either. The doctors were all insistent on getting their hands on him for a proper exam. The one they’d done in the MedBay was more of an emergency one. He’d just gotten an email this morning that they still needed to give him vaccinations and take blood pressure readings when he wasn’t stressed and about to pass out, and that fucking alpha exam (whatever the fuck _ that _ was).

It was probably important considering how they were going on and on about it. They’d have to do it after he came out of his rut-

He sighed deeply. He just... he didn’t have TIME-

“You smell like Dad,” Peter said sleepily.

It took a second for Tony to recalibrate. “I do?” he asked.

Peter hummed. “And weird. Why do you smell weird?”

Tony blue screened a bit. How the fuck was he supposed to answer that? Why yes, Peter, I probably smell like sex- _ Jesus Christ _\- “I don’t know honey,” he lied. “It must be from the airport,” he said. “I still haven’t taken a shower yet.”

“Do you need help?” Peter asked, earnestly. “I can wash your hair like you did mine.” Tony tried to imagine explaining the marks on his back and noped right out of that too. “I think I’ll have Steve help me,” he said hastily.

Peter pouted a bit at him, but Steve rescued him by arriving with both a shake and some blueberries in a bowl.

“For my omegas,” Steve rumbled, and kissed their heads. It made Tony tear up a bit. He fucking loved blueberries. And Steve had _ remembered _-

Dear god, he probably should have taken that fucking nap. He was just a wreck right now-

Thankfully, Steve made no move to try to take Peter from him, or Tony would have growled at him. Instead he got them a blanket and a couple of pillows, and patiently held the food until Tony had him and Peter somewhat nested.

When they were all settled, Steve sat next to them on the couch and took over the remote. They watched a documentary about dogs while Peter drank his shake, curled up in Tony’s lap. And this- this was nice. He closed his eyes, and scented Peter’s hair.

“Is he sleeping?” Steve whispered.

“I think so,” Peter whispered back.

Tony hummed a bit. It was too much work to open his eyes.

“Shhh... go to sleep baby,” Steve said, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Tony drifted away. Warm and safe in his nest with his kid.

*******************************

“LA LA LA LA UH UH AH.”

The ear blistering music made him squeak and almost fall out of bed- he was only saved by Steve pinning him down, and covering him bodily.

“Nalkaloun secret dulleossan, yaegin beil sog-e-”

“JARVIS OFF!” Tony shouted over Steve’s snarling at the non-existent threat. A gasping noise next to him made him realize that Peter was either in mid-panic attack, or on the verge of one.

“Steve-” Tony said urgently, shoving him towards the younger omega.

“What the _ fuck _ was that?” Steve demanded, as he shifted off him to curl protectively more around Peter. “Shh... it’s alright baby,” he soothed. “I’ve got you.” The man had somehow managed to wake from a dead sleep, and cover both of them protectively, Tony noted, a touch hysterically. Who the hell _ does that _?

“Tony?” Steve demanded.

Tony rubbed his face. “That was an alarm. I’ve been trying to change it for like three days now-” he glared at the ceiling, then at Steve. “Shouldn’t you be running?” he demanded. “Jarvis, what time is it?”

“It is 6:22 am sir,” Jarvis said. “It is expected to be 70 degrees today-”

Tony felt a bit of his soul exit his body. “Since when is my alarm at 6 am?” he demanded angrily.

“The Supreme Leader felt that an early start to the day fosters better-”

Tony felt his jaw drop. “Are you SERIOUS?” he demanded shrilly. “Is he awake right now?”

“The Supreme Leader has been awake for an hour,” Jarvis reported. “I am happy to report that his rut ended early last evening-”

“Mute,” Tony snapped, and Jarvis went silent.

Steve was looking at him, his lips pressed thinly together, clearly unhappy.

“Stay here with Peter. I’m going to deal with this,” Tony said.

Steve opened his mouth, apparently thought better of it, then closed it again, nodding. “I’ll stay with Peter. Try to get him back to sleep.”

Tony got up, threw on some pants and a new shirt and took the elevator to Harley’s floor.

“Jarvis tell him that I’m coming, and that I expect him to be at least wearing pants.”

“I am delighted to report that the Supreme Leader is in fact, already fully clothed,” Jarvis said, entirely too cheerfully considering what time it was.

“Wonderful,” Tony snipped, then a minute later, limped out of the elevator. To find... an empty apartment?

“Jarvis?”

“He is in the bedroom sir,” Jarvis said.

Tony sighed. At least the place didn’t smell like a private room at a porno shop. Unlike Peter’s floor, where he had basically a studio apartment, Steve’s old floor had rooms with walls and doors.

Tony walked over and knocked on a door. “Harley?”

At the answering grunt, Tony opened it, bracing himself for- well. Something. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. A mountain of used tissues on the floor maybe? Lube on the walls? Crunchy sections of carpet?

Instead he found a clearly sulking Harley facing the wall, laying on top of his (made??) bed, in a room that smelled like citrus and Febreeze, and alpha frustration. There wasn’t even so much as a stray sock on the floor. For a teenager just coming out of rut, it was... _ suspiciously _ clean.

He narrowed his eyes. Were those... track marks from a vacuum? Where the fuck did he get a god damned vacuum from?

He paused in the doorway, unsure if he was about to step into an emotional or literal minefield. “Harl? You okay?”

The heap of teenager heaved a long sigh. “_Fine _,” he growled, just barely loud enough for Tony to hear him.

Tony rubbed his face. That was a “I’m about two seconds from losing my shit” “fine” if he’d ever heard one. He closed his eyes. Right. He could do this. He was the pack omega. He could deal with one underage alpha. It would be _ fine _.

“Wanna share with the class what’s wrong?” he asked. “I can practically see the fumes of anger just rolling right off you from here.”

Harley grumbled. “Don’t make me start throwing stuff at you, grumpy bear,” Tony said. “I’m sure there’s marshmallows _ somewhere _ in this apartment- come on,” he wheedled, venturing inside and sitting on the bed. “Talk to me.” He patted a leg.

“When am I going home?” Harley asked pointedly. “I got work today-”

“Okay, first of all- no more working for money. That’s- uh uh. Not happening. Secondly, I just finished screaming at some FBI guys yesterday, and they’re practically chomping at the bit to get you out of here and into Club Fed somewhere, so no- you’re not going anywhere.”

Harley tensed.

“I’m NOT going to allow them to take you. Remember- worst case I have a private island. There’s a beach house and you can work on your tan-”

“I can’t- I can’t jus’ _ leave _ -” Harley protested, gesturing with frustration. “I’ve got- the mortgage is due in like a week! And _ someone _ has get Abbi ready for school- _ and _ take Emma to daycare- she’s got a doctor appointment on Saturday- Momma’s gonna be workin’- I’m suppos’ta take her-”

“Stop,” Tony barked. “Just... just stop. Okay? I had Nat take care of everything. Have you talked to your mom yet?”

“You took the phone away!” Harley snapped, rolling over to glare at him.

Tony held up a placating hand. “Jarvis? Do we know if anyone’s awake in Tennessee right now?”

“A Martin Frye is listed as the on-site supervisor, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Let’s give him a call, shall we?”

“Of course sir,” Jarvis said.

Harley watched, his mouth open in shock as the sound of a ringing phone filled the room. It was answered on the third ring- Tony was, well. Not impressed. But satisfied.

“Hello?” a man’s gruff voice answered.

“Look alive- Mr. Frye isn’t it? It’s the boss man. Just calling to check up and see what’s going on.”

“Ah- of course- Mr. Stark! How can I help you?”

“I’ve got a worry wort over here who’s concerned about who’s taking care of his baby sisters. Who do we have over there, and what’s the schedule for today?”

“Ah- well. We’ve got Miss Tia helping with Emma-” there was some rustling of papers. “She’s got a bit of a diaper rash right now. Mrs. Keener is going to bring it up with the doctor at her appointment this Saturday-”

Harley made a face. “Is she usin’ that stupid butt paste?” he demanded, surly.

“I’m sorry- who’s this?”

“That’s Harley. Her brother. You’re on speaker,” Tony said.

“Well, I’m not sure-”

“She can’t use that stuff. It breaks her out. She’s got to use the petroleum jelly. Like I _ told _ her. And stop givin’ her milk for a bit. When she starts gettin’ a rash, milk just makes it worse.”

“Hang on, I’m writing this down,” Frye said. “Anything else?”

“Is Abby out of her heat yet?” Harley asked.

“Ah, no. We’ve got an omega nurse staying on site. She’s been helping with things. I’ve been told that everything so far has been very normal. Very textbook-”

“Momma’s due in two weeks,” Harley said. “Someone needs to remind her to call into work. She don’t ever remember-”

“Actually, Mrs. Keener quit,” Frye said. “Once Abby comes out of her heat, we’re moving the family closer to Knoxville-”

“What? Why?” Harley demanded, confused.

“The feds... they ah... they did a bit of a number on this place when they searched it. They kept swearing they got explosive traces on the walls- and they punched a few holes- now the locals are threatening to condemn it. Mrs. Keener is going to spend today packing stuff up. We’re going to move them to a more secure location, then reassess.”

“THEY DID WHAT?” Harley demanded, furious.

“Hey- hey- look at me, Harl- LOOK-” Tony demanded, squeezing his leg. “Billionaire, remember? With a literal building full of lawyers? We’ll get everyone somewhere where it’s safe, and then the girls can be out of the mess while we get some people out to fix it, and we’ll bill the feds for it. _ Don’t worry. _”

“Mr. Keener? I can _ assure _ you - from one alpha to another - that your omegas are safe,” Mr. Frye said, all business. “We’re going to move them down to a nice apartment complex that has a pool and everything. Great security in a gated community. Miss Tia is going to stay and help take care of the girls and the house for as long as Mrs. Keener wants her. I’ve also got Mr. Amos, who is an excellent driver, who will help take Abby to school, and do errands.”

“Any hiccups so far?” Tony asked.

“We had some media camp out for a day or two- the story is a big one locally. It’s also why we’re moving them to a gated community. No reporters will get past their gate guards, and if they do, they’ll have to get through me first.”

Harley grunted a bit in frustration, and ran a hand through his hair.

_ Note to self- get Harley a haircut. He looks like he got into a fight in a back alley somewhere with an asshole armed only with pruning sheers. And lost. Badly. _

The kid’s loose, nearly non-existent curls helped cover the obvious crimes, but it looked like it was starting to get long. He was at serious risk of turning hippie any day now.

“Abby’s got a history test this week-”

“Mrs. Keener contacted the school. Amos went and picked up a packet,” Frye said. “If she has trouble with it, we can get a tutor.”

Harley chewed a lip. “Has there been an alpha comin’ round? Aaron Sykes?”

“No. No alphas. There was a Mary-Anne, and an Amber- Mrs. Keener said she knew them-”

“They’re fine. But if Aaron comes ‘round you run him off. He’ll be after Abby- he’s a god damned predator-”

“I’ll make sure Amos gets a picture of him,” Frye reassured him. “He won’t be bothering her.”

“You’ll have to watch her. Abby will lie right to your face and sneak out-” Harley griped. “And I don’t care what Momma says. _ No bikinis. _ Her one piece from last year is still plenty good-”

Frye made a thoughtful humming sound. “I’ll take that into account when we get the apartment. I’ve found putting people on the third floor usually solves window climbing issues,” he said dryly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“She’ll say she’s going to Amber’s, and Amber will cover for her,” Harley said instantly.

Frye hummed again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And no booze. I don’t allow it in the house. Momma can’t have _ none _ of it- if you find it, you pour it out-”

“I can assure you Mr. Keener that my people stay sober while they’re on the job,” Frye said firmly. “You have my word that we will not bring a single drop of it into the house.”

Harley relaxed a bit, apparently appeased. But Tony knew how these things worked. The bodyguards wouldn’t bring booze in, but would do nothing if Mrs. Keener did. They’d watch for the alpha, but Tony would bet that Abby would have a string bikini within the week.

_ When the alpha’s away the omegas will play- _

Not that Tony was going to tell him that. They’d deal with that H-bomb later.

“Has Emily gotten some of Harley’s clothes together?” Tony asked.

“Amos is taking the box down the post office this morning,” Frye said.

“Thank you Frye, I think we’re feeling better now.”

“Any time Mr. Stark-”

Tony waved a hand and Jarvis hung up. “There. Better?”

Harley huffed. “I guess,” he grumbled, still clearly not happy.

“Well now’s the time to clear the air kid. Last call for grievances.”

Harley huffed again.

“What?” Tony demanded.

“You blocked the internet-” Harley complained.

“Because you were grounded,” Tony countered.

“I was in rut, and you _ blocked the internet,_” Harley complained bitterly. “And baby monitor protocol? SERIOUSLY?”

It took a moment for it to register.

“Oh! Shit- that- that was completely my bad. Didn’t even think about it. But no, I’m not turning off the baby monitor protocol. I can’t tell people that I’ve got you... corralled if you’re off hacking Russia or the Netherlands or whatever else is ‘hip’ these days-”

Harley rolled his eyes. “It was one time!” he complained. “I couldn’t even use it because they’s numbers was all fucked up! Plus it was too expensive- I can’t make a centrifuge that big- it’d take like 30 cars just for the steel alone-”

Tony’s eyes widened. “So you WERE trying to build a nuclear reactor-” he accused.

Harley rolled his eyes. “I _ thought _ about it- but it was too dangerous. I can’t have that ‘round the girls. So I made an arc reactor instead. But then I couldn’t get the palladium-”

“And you just... hacked North Korea because-”

Harley shrugged. “Thought they’d have the cheapo easy version. Cuz they’re poor an’ all. You can get plans for a centrifuge offa wikihow, but they ain’t got no numbers to go with it-”

“You seriously thought about making a nuclear reactor based of fucking wikihow?” Tony demanded, aghast.

“Do you have any idea what the power bill is like in the summer? I couldn’t turn the AC off- Emma was too little- Momma had complications in the hospital, and she was born early. I had to take time offa work to help take care of her, and then we thought Abby broke her arm, so _ that _ was a trip to the ER-”

Tony sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And the reactor... no. I get it. I don’t _ like _ it. But I get it.”

“So now what?” Harley asked.

Tony took a breath. “So _ now _\- you hang out here in the Tower until further notice. When we signed the agreement for the ankle bracelet GPS thing, we registered the Tower as your ‘home address’. So- no leaving. Period. Under any circumstances- you understand?” Tony said seriously. “You set so much as a pinky toe outside and they’ll snatch you up and ship you off to Wyoming and then I’ll have to break you out- and it’ll be an even bigger mess than it is right now.”

Harley sulked. “I gotta stay in here?” he whined.

“The _ Tower _ Harley,” Tony said. “Which has 100 floors, and something like 10 floors just for shopping and restaurants. I’m sure it’ll be a _ real _ hardship not leaving-” Tony said, dripping sarcasm. “But it’s a sacrifice I think you can make.”

Harley brightened up a bit.

“Also I don’t think that restriction will be around for long,” Tony said. “The FBI warehouse with all the evidence against you mysteriously caught fire while you were in rut. Real shame, that.”

Harley’s eyes widened. “Tony? Are you serious?”

Tony gave him a smile. “Yep. I didn’t even have anything to do with it,” Tony lied. “I was here, surrounded by witnesses.”

Harley’s eyes narrowed. “And the rest of the Avengers-”

Tony shrugged. “Are free to come and go as they please,” he said. “I have no control over what they do and do not do.” He gave Harley his best media smile.

Harley sighed. “Tony- you’re gonna get in _ trouble _-”

“Nope. Their names are Fury and Captain America, and we are going to boldly and bravely stand very firmly behind them and claim national security. Besides. I’m Iron Man. You can’t _ arrest _ me. I’ll just buy the damn country. Not even _ I _ want that. It’ll be a disaster. I’ll give everyone free healthcare. The red states will hate it, and secede again or something,” Tony said, flapping a hand dismissively.

“But, we have other things to worry about,” Tony said pointedly. “Namely- some ground rules.”

“I know, I know- you already said. Don’t leave the tower-” Harley grumbled.

Tony pressed his lips together. “AND- you have to obey Steve. And the other alphas.”

Harley frowned at him. “Other alphas?”

Tony chewed a lip. Decided to go for broke. “The Avengers- we’re a pack Harley. Steve is our pack leader. I’m the ‘head omega’,” he said, doing finger quotes. “So I can bring you in because you’re underage. But you can NOT challenge Steve.”

Harley stared at him like he had two heads. “A pack?” he demanded. “Are you _ serious _?”

“You’re at the bottom rung. So if an alpha in this house tells you to jump, you say ‘how high’ and you OBEY. _ Tell me _ you understand,” Tony said, staring at Harley, trying to get him to comply with sheer willpower alone.

Harley went a bit shifty, eyeing the bed as if it held the secrets to the wifi password.

“Harley?” Tony demanded.

“I understand,” Harley said finally. His tone didn’t inspire much confidence, but Tony would take it.

“And- you need to disable that alarm.”

“What alarm?” Harley asked, suddenly innocent and sweet.

“The alarm that gave Steve and I a fucking heart attack this morning,” Tony sniped back. “Don’t you play games with ME kid-”

“And I _ told you _ that you need to fix Jarvis’ code-” Harley snipped back.

Tony threw up his hands. “I’ve been TRYING! But between yelling at lawyers, dealing with pack stuff, and being tossed around by a giant alien robot, I haven’t had TIME-”

“You got tossed around by a robot?” Harley asked, now concerned.

“Yesterday! So turn it OFF-”

Harley eyed him. “I get internet. And a computer,” he demanded. “No- _ unfiltered _ internet. And a _ new _ computer. _ And _ you turn off the baby monitor.”

“Harley you’re _ grounded _ for crashing the fucking FBI!” Tony not quite shouted back, aghast.

“And it ain’t _ my fault _ they’re incompetent! How’s I suppos’ta know they’d plug a foreign, untested, unsecured laptop into they’s _ main system _? That’s their fault, not mine,” Harley said, completely unrepentant. “And it’s not like you’re hurtin’ for laptops ‘round here.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. Considered him. Got an idea. “You get A laptop. No dark web. AND-” he held up a finger. “You help me with some things on my chore list.” He paused. “And you turn off the alarm and _ never _ do that again. And change your nickname.”

Harley considered him. “And?”

Tony considered him back. “And... I’ll throw in a credit card.” Harley was going to get one anyway, but he didn’t _ have _ to tell him that-

“Deal-” he went to offer Tony a hand-

“You spit in that and I’ll disown you,” Tony said quickly.

Harley scowled at him. “I ain’t a _ complete _ hick-” he protested.

Tony shook his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his expectantly. “Well?”

Harley sighed dramatically. “Jarvis?”

“Yes Supreme Leader?” Jarvis asked.

“Reinstate the previous alarm protocol for Tony. Override code ‘what the fuck did you just say about me you little bitch’.”

There was a pause. “Override code accepted. Previous alarm protocol reinstated.”

Tony refrained from dancing. Barely. Nevermind the alarm- now he knew the kid’s override code so he could disable it. “And?” he demanded.

“Jarvis- call me...” Harley trailed off, uncertain.

“Grumpy Bear,” Tony snarked.

“New nickname accepted,” Jarvis said.

“Hey!” Harley protested.

“Aw- I think it really suits you,” Tony cooed, and ruffled his hair.

“Jarvis! Call me Ace,” Harley demanded, swatting away his hand.

“I apologize Grumpy Bear,” Jarvis said. “But you have exceeded the naming protocol change limit. Please try again in a week.”

Harley glowered at Tony, who beamed at him. “You ready to help with the chore list kid?” he asked.

10 minutes later they were on a floor of the tower Tony was pretty sure he’d never been to before. Rows of metal racks held god knew what- and Jesus Christ, why the hell were there mattresses all over the god damn floor back there?

“What is this?” Harley said, visibly taken aback.

“This-” Tony waved at the crap. “Is junk. I don’t know what’s here. Apparently no-one knows what’s here. We’re out of space and I need this floor so we can change it into guest rooms. So what I want YOU to do is figure out what’s here, and make a list, label the boxes, that sort of thing. That way we can decide what to put it somewhere else, what to pitch it, donate, use it for target practice, that sort of thing. Capice?”

Harley stared at the racks. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

Tony waggled a latest StarkTech laptop at him. “You want porn or not, kid?” Tony demanded imperiously. “I need this floor cleared, and I’m assuming you know Excel? Yes?”

“I thought I’d be in your lab,” Harley whined.

“Later. Get this done- _ quickly _ \- and I’ll let you help me design the new StarkPhone,” Tony said. “Maybe even help make the prototype.”

Of course, he was going to have the kid work on that anyway- but again- there was _ no need to tell him that_.

The kid was going to be doing even more, once he figured out what projects he could hand over. He wasn’t a total dick, though. He’d stick his name in the fine print for royalties or whatever and pay off the kid’s mortgage. The least the kid could do was help carry the load while Tony provided a legal fireshield for him.

“Plus I can’t have you in the lab when you’re on pain pills. Children have to be sober to have access,” Tony said briskly, and waggled the laptop again for emphasis.

Harley scowled at him, and Tony stared him down, just daring him to make a joke about being sober.

Harley backed down first. “Fine,” he grumbled, and held out a hand for the laptop.

“Great! Have fun. I’ll be back later and we can do lunch then swing by the Medbay and get those vaccines and things taken care of,” Tony said brightly, handing over the laptop and clapping him on the shoulder. “Just- Jarvis doesn’t have access to this level so don’t pull a rack down on top of you or anything. And you have to press the button over there to make the elevator come,” Tony said, pointing to a lone button by the elevator door.

Harley nodded. “And what- you’re gonna go work on the Iron Man suit?” he complained.

“Nope. I’m going back to bed,” Tony said, pressing the button for the elevator. “Only alphas get up this early,” he snarked.

When he got back up to the penthouse Tony kicked his shoes off and headed straight for the bedroom. Peter was in bed, lightly snoring while Steve laid next to him. Tony crawled into bed behind Steve with a sigh, and Steve rolled over to give him a kiss.

“Everything under control?” Steve murmured.

Tony hummed. “Alarm is fixed. And I’m going to have him help me with stuff in the lab once he’s off his pain pills,” Tony answered.

“You trust him that much?” Steve asked.

Tony snorted. “The kid is basically me, but you know- 17. And an alpha.” He frowned. “And responsible. It’s almost scary, now that I think about it.”

“I thought Peter was you,” Steve teased, tucking Tony’s head under his chin, and wrapping his arms around him.

“Peter is...” he sighed. “He’s better than I ever was, that’s for sure,” Tony said softly, and let Steve cuddle him.

Steve hummed his disapproval. “_I _ think you’re swell,” he said, almost reproachfully.

Tony snorted. And for a while- they just laid there. Enjoying each other’s warmth.

“I’m going to quit being Iron Man,” Tony said eventually, safe in Steve’s arms.

Steve froze. “Tony?” he asked, alarmed.

“Not for forever. Just... for a while.”

Steve glanced behind himself, checking on Peter. “Why don’t we talk in the great room,” he said firmly.

Tony sighed, but wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck. “Only if you carry me,” he complained. “I had to walk earlier.”

“Of course,” Steve said gently.

It was almost disgusting how easily Steve did things like carry him and close doors at the same time. And hot. Disgustingly hot. It was irritating.

Steve settled them on the couch, and even pulled a blanket over him for good measure.

“Talk to me,” he said finally.

Tony sat quietly for a long moment before he finally spoke. “I wasn’t joking when I told you I was busy,” he said. “I’m supposed to come up with a new phone prototype in like 3 weeks. Plus keep an eye on Peter. And make sure Harley doesn’t break his parole. And oversee the construction on the new guest floors. And get Peter a teacher. AND all their medical stuff. AND deal with pack problems, AND debug Jarvis, AND-” frustrated, he waved a hand vaguely. “In the last two days I’ve basically have gotten almost nothing done,” he complained. “I can’t- I can’t do all that _ and _ be running all over fucking... New Jersey or wherever shooting down bad guys. I just...” he huffed, stressed just thinking about it.

Steve was quiet for a moment, and Tony tensed, waiting for his answer.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked, serious. “Something Natasha or Darcy or that new girl- ah, Kate, can do to help?”

Tony grunted. “Harley will help. And I’ve already got Kate on some things. But- I just... I just _ can’t _ Steve,” he said plaintively. “I just... I need _ time _-”

Steve tilted Tony’s face back so that he could look him in the eye, and cupped his face with a stupidly large hand. He gently traced a cheek with a thumb. Tony bit a lip, pensively, as he studied his mate’s Serious Face.

“If you need time off to take care of the pups and put our nest in order, then you shall have it,” Steve said, and gently kissed his forehead. “My _ precious _ omega,” he rumbled. “You take such good care of our pack,” he said softly, his voice full of heat. The kiss that followed wasn’t exactly chaste either. Tony just held on, and relaxed- letting Steve do what he wanted with him. Which turned to be laying flat on his back on the sofa while Steve squished him into the couch cushions, rumbling and nibbling at Tony’s bond mark.

“My beautiful, _ wonderful _omega,” Steve murmured.

Tony huffed. “If I knew being domestic turned you on, I’d wear an apron in the kitchen,” Tony teased.

Steve froze. “Cooking, or reheating?” he asked, deeply suspicious.

“Overseeing the caterers,” Tony replied instantly. “I _ don’t _cook.”

Steve relaxed. “Good. Last thing we need is a kitchen remodel,” he teased, and pressed another kiss to Tony’s neck.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not THAT bad,” he complained.

“You cooked taco meat for an hour on _ high _ . They had to wash the _ ceiling _to get rid of the smoke smell. You warped the pan so bad we had to throw it out- it’s a miracle nothing caught on fire-”

“I was distracted-” Tony protested. “I had an _ idea _-”

“You left the kitchen and went down to the lab and worked on Jarvis, disabling the fire alarm and the cameras. For an HOUR. While you had things on the stove-”

“One time!” Tony protested. “And I don’t make tacos anymore! Grilled cheese only! Plus that upgrade really came in handy later-”

Steve huffed and bit down on the bond mark, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to leave teeth marks. Tony instantly quieted, and waited. It didn’t hurt- not exactly. But if he squirmed it could cause damage.

“Alpha?” he ventured quietly, unsure as to what his mate wanted.

Steve rumbled, hard- almost scolding- and increased the pressure. Tony shivered and after several tense seconds, willed himself to relax. Steve helped, gently tracing the scent gland on the other side of his neck with a thumb. When he was completely limp, Steve slowly released his teeth, and licked the bond mark.

Tony sighed heavily. “_ Alpha _-” he whined tiredly, slurring a bit.

“Shh...” Steve soothed, and pressed a kiss to his jawline. “You want to go back to bed and cuddle with Peter?” he murmured.

Tony brightened. That was an _ amazing _ idea. “Steve-” he pleaded.

“I got you baby,” Steve preened, clearly proud of himself for some reason, and carried Tony back to bed. He let his mate take his pants off and tuck him in carefully next to Peter, who shifted in his sleep to wrap octopus like around him. The little omega scented happy, even in his sleep-

Behind him, Steve wrapped big strong arms around both of them, and rumbled quietly directly into Tony’s back, smelling of home and safety.

Tony purred.

After a moment, Peter joined him.

And this- this was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve never heard RDJ’s story about how a terrible Burger King meal made him realize he needed to get sober, google it. It’s pretty funny. It was RDJ’s idea for Stark to have a Burger King cheeseburger when he made that speech at the press conference where he stopped making weapons in Iron Man 1.


	51. He’s a Little Bit Country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings train. Parental over reactions. Bad decisions. A bad ankle day. Meeting new people. Sassy Peter Parker joins the chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I aintent dead.
> 
> I’ve got a lot going on in my life. I’m moving (still!) and I also started student teaching. I’ll be doing the student teaching thing until December. I honestly did not realize that it’d been so long since my last update! Thank you so much for your patience! I really didn't forget y'all. I was just super busy. 
> 
> Also, this chapter is a super important one. I wanted to make sure that it was right before releasing it. 
> 
> The alternate title for this chapter is “Finally” for several reasons.

Peter woke to the feeling of movement behind him- plus his back was colder than it was a few seconds ago. He sniffed and rolled over to find Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching. Like he was planning on getting up.

Peter shot out a hand and grabbed the back of his Pjs. “Daad-” he whined. Steve twisted in his spot, and smiled down at him.

“Hey sweetheart-” he said softly. “It’s okay. I’m just going for my run. When I get back I’ll make you pancakes, okay?”

Peter gave him his best puppy dog eyes. He’d gotten them almost down to a science now since Steve and the others fell for them. (Aunt May was immune to them). “But- Ma doesn’t like it when he wakes up without you,” he wheedled. “And I’m _ cold _-” he fussed.

Steve considered him for a second. “He really said that?”

Peter nodded, and reached out for him. “Come back to bed,” Peter whined. “Please?” He did his best to increase the pout by at least 50%.

Steve considered him for a long moment, then sighed. “Don’t think I’m not on to you,” he pretend grumbled, and got back into bed. “I know _ exactly _what you’re doing.”

Peter beamed sleepily at him but didn’t deny it, and happily burrowed back into the man’s chest with a happy sigh.

“I’m just a heating pad to you, aren’t I?” Steve snarked.

Peter hummed. “_And _ you smell good,” he added.

Steve snorted. “Such a spoiled omega,” he scolded ruefully, but he ran a hand through Peter’s hair and down his back.

“Your omega,” Peter mumbled into his chest.

Steve hummed. “_ My _ omega,” he agreed, smelling happy. He kissed his forehead, and Peter went back to sleep.

The next thing he knew, the world was ending. Or at least it seemed like it- everything was too loud and Steve was snarling at something he couldn’t see- at last the noise stopped.

“Shhh.... I got you. Breathe honey. It was a false alarm-”

Peter clung both literally and metaphorically to his dad as he waited for his ears to stop ringing. If Steve hadn’t been on top of him, gently squishing him into the mattress, he would have been on the ceiling already.

“What-” Peter finally squeaked.

“It’s okay. Jarvis malfunctioned a bit. Your Ma’s taking care of it,” Steve said soothingly, and scented his hair.

Peter worked on breathing. He was fine. Dad was fine. It was just a false alarm, that’s all.

“The loud music scared you honey?” Steve asked.

“That was _ music _?” Peter asked, astonished.

Steve snorted. “Apparently.”

Peter blinked. He was missing something- “Where’s Ma?” he asked urgently.

“He’s safe. He’s taking care of the problem,” Steve said instantly. “Shhh...” he rumbled, stroking his hair. “Such a good, sweet omega- worried about your Ma-” he cooed.

Peter let Steve fuss over him. It felt... odd, having his dad sweet talk him like this. Intellectually, he knew that’s how alphas talked to omegas sometimes. It felt... a little infantile? But good?

He stuck his nose in his dad’s throat. “Rumble Dad?” he asked tentatively. Steve instantly let out a long prolonged rumble, and his scent turned to one of warmth and safety. Peter sighed as he melted into the mattress.

“Better?” Steve asked softly after a long moment.

Peter hummed.

“Good boy,” Steve murmured, and kissed his forehead. He slid off to lay beside him, and Peter whined in protest. “Shh... come here. Not going anywhere sweetheart,” Steve said, pulling him close.

“But I _ like _ it when you squish me,” Peter protested.

Steve hummed. “Maybe,” he said. “But my elbows tend to go numb after a while,” he teased.

Peter scowled at him. “What’s even the point of you being a super soldier then?” he demanded, wiggling and huffing as he had to find a new comfortable position.

Steve snorted a laugh. “I don’t know baby,” he said wryly. “But I’m sure Fury has some ideas.”

Peter tsked dismissively, but found a new spot.

“Also I don’t think your mother would like to come back to find me ‘squishing you’,” Steve said gently. “You’ll have to get yourself a mate to get squished outside of emergencies.” The man sounded amused.

Peter huffed. Like he would even _ find _ a mate in his lifetime. His mood soured, he just snuggled with his dad.

Steve ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “You okay honey? You still smell upset.”

“I’m fine,” Peter said, though his tone managed to convey that he was not fine at all. Even though he had his face buried in Steve’s chest he could practically feel the man studying him.

“Hmmm,” Steve said thoughtfully. “Do you want me to ask Jarvis where your Ma is? I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“No,” Peter said, still annoyed.

_ Get it together Parker. _

And then just as he was starting to get over it-

“Are your arms bothering you sweetheart?”

“No! I don’t need my medicine!” Peter snapped. It came out a bit harsher and with more attitude than he intended.

“Hey-” Steve barked, suddenly and authoritatively. Peter instantly cringed backwards.

_ Shit- _

“No-no- sweetheart, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean that- come here-” Steve gathered him up, and rumbled for him again. “I’m sorry.”

“Dad-” Peter whined, feeling a bit of emotional whiplash.

“I’m not very good at this,” Steve said, sighing. “What I meant- no- what I am _ trying to say _\- is that something is clearly bothering you. And if I can fix it, I’d like for you to tell me.”

Peter huffed again. “Can’t fix it,” he mumbled.

Another long moment.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Peter huffed. Thought for a moment.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Will... will you still cuddle with me when I’m older?”

“Of course,” Steve said, clearly surprised. “I’ll always want a cuddle from my favorite son.”

Peter snorted._ His favorite son. Really?_ _Like he had any others-_ He rolled his eyes. “Daad- I- I’m serious!”

“And so am I. I’ll cuddle with you for as long as you want,” Steve said. “Of course I might have to growl at your mate and steal you away-” he teased.

Peter huffed angrily, and Steve paused. “Something to do with your mate?” he asked, clearly confused.

“_No _-”

“Talk to me-” Steve said seriously, and nudged Peter’s chin up so that he looked him in the eye. “_ Oh honey _\- what is it?”

Peter blinked away his tears, and rubbed at his face. “I’m fine-”

“Peter-” Steve implored.

Peter huffed. _ Fine. _

“I just... I’m not going to have a mate, okay?” Peter said. “And I like cuddling. So...”

“You’re not?” Steve asked, still confused.

Peter shrugged listlessly.

“Is it... is it because other alphas make you uncomfortable?” Steve asked, concerned.

Peter flushed. “No!” he protested, but even he could hear the lie there. “I just... it doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “It’s not like I’m a real omega anyway.”

Steve stared at him, clearly shocked. “Peter! _ Of course _ you’re an omega- you have heats and-”

“But I’m a _ boy_! What- what kind of alpha would even _ want _that-” he trailed off at Steve’s raised eyebrow.

“I seem to recall liking your mother an awful lot,” Steve said drolly. “I did mate him, after all.”

Peter flushed. “You- you don’t count!” Peter stammered. “You- you’re Captain America! You’re like perfect or something- Where am I supposed to even look for an alpha like you?”

For a moment, Steve seemed taken aback. “_Oh sweetheart _ -” he said, and drew Peter in close. “You are the _ sweetest _ omega-”

Peter huffed angrily. “Not going to help me find a mate,” he complained bitterly. “I’d joke and ask if you had a brother, but Bucky went and got _ fated _ \- like who even _ does that _ anymore? Fated mates happen in like period romances, not our _ kitchen _-”

Steve burst into laughter. “I do think you’re a bit young for Bucky,” he agreed cheekily. “But you are whip-smart. And kind. And amazing. Plus there’s the whole wall crawling thing-”

“If you say adorable, I’m gonna kick you,” Peter complained. “None of those things change the fact that I’m... you know. A _ boy_. I’m not- I’m not even curvy-” he protested.

“You know that’s a recent thing, right? When I was a boy, omegas that looked like boys in short dresses were all the rage. Now it’s all...” he trailed off. “I’ve been told that they often change the pictures in the computer these days before they put it in the magazines. It’s all fake anyway.” He paused. “Though... I think you might be more curvy than you realize- if you gain some weight like the doctor wants I think you’ll have a real set of- ah- hips going on.”

Peter frowned at him, then looked down at said hips to make sure they were talking about the same thing. They remained too wide and bony. He looked back up at Steve. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously. “My _ hips_?”

Steve snorted a laugh. “Yes sweetheart. I think you’ll find that some alphas like that sort of thing,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

Peter grumbled skeptically. “I’ve never heard an omega being complimented for her _ hips _ -” he paused, brain working overtime. He opened his mouth. Waged a furious internal debate if he was going to ask his dad- _ HIS DAD _\- if he was trying to say he had a nice ass- and decided that no, no- he would much rather die happily ignorant. So he closed his mouth again.

“You’re awful at this,” he complained instead.

“I know,” Steve sighed. “I make a much better heating pad.” He slid a hand up to gently trace Peter’s scent gland. “But it’s much too early for good little omegas to be so upset,” he scolded gently. “They should go back to sleep. And when they wake up, they can have pancakes for breakfast.”

Peter shivered, but didn’t fight it. It _ was _ early. “Blu’berri?” he slurred.

“And chocolate chip,” Steve agreed instantly.

Peter hummed, and within minutes passed the fuck out.

The next time he woke up it was all at once. He sat up in bed so fast he almost made himself dizzy. He was alone.

_ Where-? _

“Good Morning, Young Master. It is 8:30 am. You are safe, you are in the Tower. Sir and the Captain are in the penthouse kitchen. I’ve been told to tell you there will be pancakes.” Jarvis said patiently from the ceiling.

Peter sat there for a moment, blinking at the walls while he waited for his brain to come back online.

Wasn’t there something?

He had- he had to do something- shit he had to pee!

Fortunately he made it to the bathroom without incident and after he washed his hands he ran damp fingers through his curls in an attempt to tame them. He failed miserably. He noticed, with some dismay, that the blue color had faded from “punk” to “pastel”. He scowled at the mirror.

Eventually he emerged from the bathroom, feeling extra frumpy. He was still in the yoga pants and t-shirt he wore yesterday for one thing.

“Everything alright kiddo?” Tony asked from his spot at the island. He was carefully cracking eggs into a bowl while Steve stood at the stove, working on what smelled like pancakes.

“Had to pee,” he complained.

“Hmm. How many eggs-”

Have you ever tried to stop mid-stride? Like, just halt while you had one foot in the air when you had no intention of doing so a split second earlier?

All Peter knew is that one second he was walking and everything was perfectly fine. The next, his spider-sense went absolutely bat shit crazy- he tried to stop, to see what the fuck was even happening, but gravity and momentum are not kind masters, so his foot kept going forward-

He was on the floor in half a second in a gangly heap, gasping and hissing at his foot-

“PETER?!” Tony shrieked.

A millisecond later, Tony had him, and was frantically feeling his head. “Nothing here- Steve?!” he demanded.

“He’s bleeding-” Steve said grimly, and pulled on a leg. Peter instinctively pulled back, whining- because OW- his foot fucking_ hurt _-

“**Settle!**” Steve barked, and Peter’s head very nearly bounced off the ground with how fast he went limp. Fortunately, Tony’s lap was in the way.

When he came back online, Steve was holding up a partially bloodied piece of glass no bigger than a pinky nail.

Tony stared at it, and gave an exasperated sigh. “That’s _ it _ ?” he demanded, then glared at Peter. “All that fuss over _ that _ ? I ought to smack you-” he scolded. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought you were having a god damned _ seizure _-”

“Tony-” Steve scolded. “It’s a piece of glass in his _ foot _. It hurt and he wasn’t expecting it-”

“It’s tiny!” Tony protested. “When you said it was glass, I thought he’d been _ impaled _-”

Peter, now with no glass in his foot, and feeling mildly concussed and embarrassed, winced. “Sorry- I just... I didn’t know it was there until it was too late-”

Tony huffed. “New rule. No giving me heart attacks before lunch at least.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Peter protested. “Where did it even come from?”

For some reason, Steve frowned at Tony, who blinked then looked a tiny bit- shamed? Whatever it was, it passed quickly.

“My fault, sweetheart,” Tony said quietly. “I ah- dropped a vase last night. We must have missed a piece when we swept this morning.”

“Hold still,” Steve said, “You’re still bleeding-” he paused, sniffing the air. “Is something- Tony! The pancakes!”

“Sir, you may wish to remove the pancakes from the stove top-” Jarvis said even as Tony was scrambling towards the stove.

“I know! I KNOW!” he shouted and dumped the griddle, burning pancakes and all- directly into the sink. Then blasted it with water.

Both Steve and Peter winced. Steve opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, before sighing and letting it go.

“I guess we’re ordering in this morning,” Steve said wryly. “Jarvis?”

“I have already placed an order for a continental breakfast,” Jarvis said calmly. “It should be arriving in another 10 minutes.”

It turned out to be the perfect amount of time for Peter to finally stop bleeding, and for Steve to walk Tony through removing the bacon from the oven-

“Just- take it out with an oven mitt-” Steve said, still applying pressure to Peter’s foot with a towel.

“I’m a bad cook, not an idiot Steve!” Tony fired back. Then promptly burned himself on an oven rack anyway. He dropped the tray with a yelp and a horrible clatter that made Peter wince-

“Just walk away baby-” Steve ordered, exasperated. “Do NOT fall on the grease-”

“I’m not helpless!” Tony fired back, while Peter listened, horrified. The island blocked his view from where he was laying.

“Please- for the love of god- just- NO! Don’t try to save it- Just... just walk away. Go run some water over your hand in the bathroom-” Steve pleaded.

“I’m fine! It startled me, that’s all- I can save some of it-”

“Tony- it’s HOT- baby, no- the _ oven mitt _-”

“I can take care of it!”

“**TONY** **STOP!**”

Peter froze.

“**Sit on the couch,**” Steve ordered.

Peter found himself trying to get up to obey-

“What? No, no- _ you _ stay put-” Steve said, and patted Peter’s leg, while Tony went and sat on the couch. He looked a little robotic while he did so Peter noticed, somewhat alarmed. He glanced worriedly between the two adults while Steve sighed heavily and started to wrap Peter’s foot with some gauze from a first aid kit that had appeared from somewhere- probably while he was out of it.

“_What the FUCK _?” Tony demanded a full 30 seconds later, sounding incredibly angry. He’d rebooted, apparently.

“You were about to pick up bacon that just came out of an oven with your _bare_ _hands_-” Steve snapped. “I’m not going to just sit here, and watch you hurt yourself-”

“So you used a fucking alpha command on me?” Tony demanded, outraged.

“Yes,” Steve said firmly. “I know you don’t like it but-”

Steel beams had melted before a less withering gaze, but Steve ignored it. “I’m literally bandaging _ our child _ right now,” he continued, clearly exasperated. “The bacon can stay on the floor for the rest of the day for all I care- the health of my omegas is more important.” He paused. “And you can’t work in the lab with burned fingers, anyway,” he added. “You were literally _ just _ complaining about how busy you’re going to be over the next few weeks-”

Tony huffed, but at least stopped glaring. “I just _ cannot believe _ you used a fucking alpha command on me-” he bitched.

“I panicked, all right?” Steve shot back. “The morning is bad enough already- I don’t need you in MedBay with burned hands and a broken ankle, or god knows what from slipping on the grease- _ all over stupid bacon!” _

Tony huffed again.

Peter glanced worriedly between the two adults again. “I’m sorry-” he tried weakly. “I should have looked where I was going- it’s my fault- Dad would still be cooking if I wasn’t so dramatic-”

It was like he flipped a switch, and all the tension drained out of the room.

“Oh my god- _ Peter _\- no baby-” Tony fussed, and came to sit next to him. “It was an accident-”

“No one blames you for anything, sweetheart,” Steve reassured him. “We’re all just a bit stressed out this morning.”

There was a ding from the elevator and people with rolling tray carts started to emerge.

Tony swore under his breath. “I’ll take care of the caterers,” he said. Steve meanwhile, picked him up and put him on the couch. He even reclined the end for him and propped his foot up on a couple of pillows.

“Looks like you’re having breakfast on the couch today,” Steve said, amused.

Peter huffed a sigh. “It’s probably healed already!” he fussed.

“Uh uh. You are not to move from this couch until I’ve swept the floor again,” Steve said seriously. “You hear me?”

“Yes alpha,” Peter grumbled.

“Good boy,” Steve said, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll go make you a plate.”

Tony and Steve returned, not just with plates, but with trays with both plates and things like silverware and napkins on them. Peter got both blueberry and banana pancakes. And hash browns. And eggs. And a whole stack of bacon.

Tony’s tray, he couldn’t help but notice- had a daisy on it.

“Don’t I get a flower?” he mock complained.

“Your father thinks he’s being subtle,” Tony replied dryly, sitting next to Peter on the couch. “Here-” he picked up the flower, considered Peter, and then settled for tucking it behind an ear.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ma-” he complained.

“Maybe next time you should wear some shirts with pockets,” Tony said. “Babe? Get me a couple of bobby pins from the bathroom?”

“You have bobby pins?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Pepper lived here for years, honey. After a while the ones left behind breed or something. We could live here for a hundred years and never fully eradicate them-” Tony complained, and ate a grape.

Steve returned with the requested bobby pins, which Tony spent several moments fussing and stabbing at Peter’s hair with, before sitting back, satisfied. “There. Now you’re an actual flower child,” he smirked.

“You look very... handsome,” Steve said, his eyes twinkling.

Peter glared at him. “You were going to say adorable, weren’t you?” he accused.

“Yes he was,” Tony said unrepentantly. “Because it’s true. And if you take it out before I get a good picture of you I’ll take your bacon.”

Peter made a noise of alarm, and shielded his plate.

“I’ll get you more bacon,” Steve murmured, and kissed his forehead.

Peter decided it was easier to just leave it in.

He was halfway through his eggs when Tony pointedly dumped orange slices from his tray onto Peter’s. Peter wrinkled his nose at them. “Strawberries?” Peter asked around a mouthful.

“Eat your orange and I’ll make Steve get you strawberries.” Tony said.

“If he wants strawberries, I’ll get him some,” Steve said calmly from the other end of the couch, already halfway through his gigantic stack of pancakes.

“He needs the vitamin C,” Tony said.

“Aren't I supposed to take vitamins for that?” Peter asked skeptically.

“The ones in fruit are better for you,” Tony said. He’d made himself some sort of breakfast sandwich that looked like the contents of half of a breakfast bar had been stuffed between two bagel slices. The man somehow managed to eat it without unhinging his jaw, which was impressive. “Jarvis, where are we on the vitamin front anyway?”

“Peter’s prescription is in his room,” Jarvis said patiently. Tony hummed, satisfied.

“Have you talked to your Aunt lately?” Steve asked, herding his eggs away from the syrup pool that threatened them.

“I’m seeing her the day after tomorrow-” Peter said.

Tony grunted. “Nope. Tomorrow.”

Peter frowned at him. “But I don’t see her until Friday-”

“Today is Thursday,” Tony said, then paused. “Right Jarvis?”

“Today is Thursday, April 25th,” Jarvis said. “Peter is scheduled to see his Aunt at 12:30 tomorrow. Your interview with Anderson Cooper is scheduled for 2pm.”

“You have an interview?” Steve asked.

Tony waved a hand vaguely. “I need to announce Bucky’s mating before they register it. It’s a whole thing,” he said, and frowned at his bagel. “Did what’s-her-face really get Anderson Cooper?” he demanded at the ceiling at large.

“We received the confirmation email 10 minutes ago, sir.” Jarvis said. “Mr. Cooper is well known for his excellent reporting, and he recently announced the adoption of a baby girl with his alpha mate.”

Steve hummed. “Sounds like a good man,” he said. “And I think her name is Kate, Tony,” he said dryly.

Tony snorted. “I’ll learn her name when she doesn’t quit,” Tony sniped. “Besides, I learned a long time ago, learning their names just gives them... _ ideas _.”

“Ideas?” Peter asked, confused. “I’m a very very rich man. And at one point I was very very single. I’d tell you about all the times I walked in on my assistants having ‘wardrobe malfunctions’ but I’d shock your father-”

Steve snorted. “Seriously?” he asked, scandalized.

Tony hummed. “Learning names gives them delusions of closeness.” He considered his grapes. “You should remember that, Pete. If you’re in a bind, and you need someone to back off, just call them by the wrong name. If they don’t back off even then, your best bet is to point out another single rich guy and run for it while they try to figure out who’s worth more.”

Not Steve really did choke. “Tony, that’s awful.”

Tony grunted. “It’s life,” he said flatly. “Are you gonna eat that?”

Peter watched with wide eyes as Tony picked a pear slice right off Steve’s plate without waiting for an answer and ate it. He glanced nervously back at Steve to see his reaction- the last time someone had taken food off an alpha’s plate unasked, entire lunch tables had gotten overturned.

“You okay honey?” Steve asked, calmly putting another piece of pear on Tony’s plate. “You’re smelling kind of nervous down there.”

“I’m fine,” Peter said. “Um... Dad? Can- can I have a pear?” he asked timidly.

Steve flashed a smile at him. “Of course son,” he said, and put not one, but three slices on Peter’s plate, straight from his own.

Peter stared at it for a moment before eating it. It was quite possibly the best pear he’d ever had.

After breakfast, Ma insisted that Peter go to his room and “rest” to the point that Dad carried him down and actually put him to bed, propping up his foot and everything with more pillows. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore!” he protested. “I’m just going to take a shower-”

“Give your foot time to heal properly, and give yourself some time to digest,” Ma scolded, fluffing pillows and shoving them places in Peter’s nest. “Jarvis? No shower for at least an hour.”

“As you wish sir.”

Peter squawked a protest.

“Just... take it easy today, okay?” Ma said. “You can work on that blueprint project I gave you. Watch some netflix. _ Relax. _ You’re still officially sick, remember? I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, and gave Peter a kiss to his forehead.

Peter huffed, and grumbled as Dad likewise gave him a kiss.

“I’m not a baby!” he protested.

“Don’t forget to have lunch-” Dad said, as they got into the elevator, ignoring him. “I’ll be checking on you to make sure you’re eating-”

“Yeah yeah,” Peter grumbled, rolling his eyes.

They left.

He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling for all of three seconds before he reached for his phone from his night stand- and came up empty. He frowned. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had it yesterday either-

“Jarvis, where’s my phone?” he asked.

“Unknown,” Jarvis said.

Peter glared at the ceiling. “What do you _ mean _-”

He’d left it on the storage floor. Where Jarvis didn’t have a camera. He huffed, got out of bed, and spent a good 2 minutes looking for his slides-

“Jar-”

Oh. He’d left those on the storage floor too.

No big deal. He’d just go get them. He walked to the elevator. “Um... the last storage floor I visited, Jarvis,” he said.

“I apologize Young Master. I cannot do that at this time. Would you like me to order you some chocolate covered strawberries for a snack?”

“What? No!” Peter snapped. Jarvis must be malfunctioning again. “Forget it.”

He went back and sulked on his bed for another minute or so.

Fuck it. His foot was FINE. He took off the bandage, just to prove his point. There was a thin red line on the ball of his right foot where the cut had been- but HA! It was healed already. It was fine! He’d just have to take the stairs, that’s all.

So he did.

Or, at least he tried. He was halfway out the door-

“Forgive me Young Master, but you need to take your vitamins and apply your scent,” Jarvis said calmly.

Peter froze, the door to the stairwell already open. “What?”

“Sir has asked me to remind you before you leave your room for the day,” Jarvis said.

Peter considered the door.

“But you don’t care that I’m leaving?” He tried cautiously.

“Should I? You _ are _ authorized to use the stairs,” Jarvis said. “Stair access cannot be revoked due to safety concerns and possible emergencies.”

“Right?” Peter said. “Yeah- okay. My vitamins and my scent. Got it.”

The vitamins were on the counter in the kitchen- and thank god he asked for the gummies. They were HUGE! He was still chewing on them as he dabbed his scent on- which was stupid really. He was just going to wash it off when he showered later...

But if he _ didn’t _ put it on... well. Jarvis was a known tattler. And he wasn’t willing to risk Ma being upset at him, especially after this morning.

So. Right. Phone!

Two flights down and Peter realized that the foot with the cut was also the same foot that he’d banged the other day. Walking funny to avoid putting too much pressure on the sore spot on the bottom of his foot aggravated the ankle.

Three flights down he started to think this might not have been his best idea.

Five flights down and he was too far to turn back.

Five and half flights down and Jesus Christ, stairs should be outlawed.

Six flights down he realized this was the king of all bad ideas, and had been reduced to a mixture of hobbling and hopping. He looked up. He could make it. Just a little further- he could see the door from here. The phone was probably near all the mattresses. Just go in, grab it, fuck the shoes, and he could take the elevator back.

Easy.

He opened the door and hobbled in- and was confused for a moment when he saw that the lights were on. And music? He could have sworn he hit the lights on the way out-

Huh. Maybe... maybe he’d forgotten. And left his phone on? The new ones supposedly did have impressively long battery life-

And he’d been kinda upset at the time with his ankle...

Halfway through the racks, he was more concerned for the state of his spotify playlist than the battery life. When the HELL did country music get put on there? Clint had better not be fucking with him-

Wait...

He reconsidered the general area. Hadn’t he left mattresses all over the floor? There definitely had been a stack of mattresses at least a row or so back, but so far he hadn’t seen any on the actual floor where he’d left them.

Someone had _ been here _-

“Maybe she’s a hippie-” someone sang in a deep bass voice.

Peter ducked behind a shelving rack.

“Hangin’ on the west coast- with flowers in her hair-*”

_ Who the fuck? _

Don’t panic Parker. It was probably a member of... of tower staff or something. They existed. Granted, they were usually good about keeping out of sight, but this was a storage level. Theoretically, things had to occasionally be taken out of storage occasionally. Or- something. Right?

He snuck a peek around the shelving rack, in time to spot the biggest alpha he’d ever seen walk past the gap between the rows of the shelving racks several rows ahead of him. He was wearing basketball shorts and one of the kinds of tank tops that Dad and Sam liked to wear around the common floor. He hummed along in harmony to the song playing from what was definitely not Peter’s phone.

_ Shit. _

Not an employee then. That was definitely not the uniform for Security- or for any other Tower Staff for that matter.

... Jesus Christ, his _ biceps _ though- no! Focus Parker!

But seriously- did shoulders even come that big outside of super soldiers?

_ God damn it brain. _ He’d have to rant to Ned about this later. How was he supposed to be able to hit bad guys if his fucking brain kept going “ _ Holy shit _” on repeat?

Okay. Seriously. Get it together man. You’re Spider-man. Hotness does not absolve you of being a bad guy. So- there was a strange alpha. Somewhere where he shouldn’t be. And he was big.

Really really fucking big.

_ So big... _

Nope. Focus!

And Peter- Peter didn’t have his web shooters. But he did have shitty bones. And a bum leg. No Jarvis. No backup. No suit. No phone to call for backup. And, this was the important bit- _ he wasn’t supposed to be here either _-

Run away and tell, and get in trouble?

Run away, don’t tell, and... what? Implode from guilt?

Maybe... maybe if he ran off, told- _ but had something to tell _-

Jarvis wasn’t here. There’d be no record of what the strange alpha was doing. Maybe- okay. Almost no-one looks up. He learned that in like the first week of being Spider-Man. Just... get to the top of a shelf, and spy on him. Then he’d have things like details. Like what he was doing. Plus he’d be on a shelf. And out of reach. And Dad might be pleased with him about being clever enough to make Ma not strangle him.

And he could get a proper look at him. For you know. Later identification. And stuff.

That... sounded actually like... well. It wasn’t a _ good _ idea. But it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had either. Frankly, he’d left all of his good ideas back on his floor in his bed, where he was supposed to be right now. So he’d just have to suck it up.

Peter hyperventilated a bit, hyping himself up, then made a hobbling dash for a closer shelf rack, and did a mad one footed, hopefully silent, scramble up to the top. Once there, he froze.

“I’m sorry I’m late-” more singing, but this time the alpha’s voice went so low it made his eyes flutter shut and a shiver went up his spine.

Wow. Okay. He just learned something new about himself. _ Interesting... ?? _

He peeked out over the edge of the shelf several comfortable feet above the top of the alpha’s head. And watched.

The man had terrible taste in music. The amazing voice did nothing to negate the awful guitar twang and even worse subject of the song: an alpha looking for his Fated Mate. Peter always hated those songs. It was always the alpha going out and looking while the omega stayed put and did things like... curl their hair. Smile. Or perhaps, if she was lucky, laugh.

He rolled his eyes when the song ended on a repeat of the phrase “Tell her she’s mine”. Ugh. Like omegas were property or something. It made him want to throw something at him and scold him for his chauvinistic music.

And seriously- country?? This was New York. Who the hell listens to country music in the middle of _ Manhattan? _

The alpha was definitely a big one too- bigger than Dad, he’d bet. But hairier. Much much hairier. And not just on the top of his head either. From his vantage point he could see his almost fur-covered chest. Which was a bit weird at first glance. Dad and Bucky had basically no body hair to speak of.

_ What would it feel like to run his fingers through it? _

The thought caught him off guard and he spent a few moments going “WTF brain?”. Seriously. What the hell was going on today? 

Anyway, he didn’t seem to be doing anything sinister. Unless evil plans of infiltrating the Tower by opening crates was a thing - and _ holy shit _ he didn’t use a crowbar. He just grabbed it and wrenched, and the lid popped right off-

Don’t panic. Peter had obviously loosened it for him when he’d done the exact same thing a few days ago, then hit it until it looked closed again. That’s all. It was the box with the coffee cups-

The alpha considered the cups. Selected two, and wandered over to a dusty looking desk that Peter didn’t remember being there last time- put the mugs down and typed a bit on his laptop.

The position he was in reminded Peter of a youtube video he saw a few weeks ago of a larger alpha driving a Barbie Powerwheels car meant for toddlers. The laptop was clearly one of the bigger Stark ones, but it still looked like a toy as the stupidly large alpha had to hunch way over the desk and carefully peck his way around the keyboard with his large fingers.

_ Awww... he’s adorable. _

He blinked. Did country music cause madness or something? He was observing an _ intruder _ for Christ’s sake-

The alpha smelled like woodsmoke. Like Dad, but nothing like Dad at the same time?

Peter sniffed carefully, considering. Dad was... Dad was a campfire carefully constructed to strict boy scout type regulations that you could safely roast your marshmallows over, with someone (probably Ma) enjoying a cup of coffee sitting next to you while you enjoyed it’s warmth. It wasn’t a big fire. But it did the job and more importantly, it was _ safe _.

But this...

It put him in mind of one of those bonfires you only see in movies where someone leaned small trees that were taller than you against each other teepee style, soaked the whole thing with gasoline, then lit it by throwing a match. They’d have to make a run for it to avoid the woosh of flames. People would throw beer bottles, small tables, and possibly couches into it while the upper flames threatened to light the surrounding trees on fire. You could roast marshmallows with it from several feet away. There would probably be several kegs somewhere nearby.

Not that he’d ever been to a drunken frat boy party with kegs. But he’d seen movies and things. And the scent reminded him of that. It was... wild. Definitely not “safe”.

But there was something else to it. He just couldn’t put his finger on it...

Gunpowder maybe? Something... something... explosive...

The alpha below him paused in typing. Looked around. Sniffed deeply. Frowned. Leaned over and sniffed the coffee cups accusingly. Peter watched him, baffled. Eventually the alpha hummed, shrugged, and poked at the computer. The music changed. The new song was even country-er if that was even possible. But slower. He got up and walked to the shelf Peter was hiding on top of, and pulled on another crate, humming along to the music.

Above and slightly behind him, Peter heard a click, followed by a fan turning on. A sudden chilly blast of AC made him shiver and turn to glare at the ceiling. There was a vent almost directly behind him- UGH. Like he wasn’t cold enough already. He turned back-

The alpha had stopped, and was sniffing deeply, clearly confused. Peter was too until he remembered-

_ His scent-!! _

The alpha looked up. Right directly at him.

Peter stared back, frozen.

_ SHIT. _

They stayed there for almost a full minute, the alpha clearly also thinking _ WTF _?

The alpha moved first- letting go of the crate-

Peter made a run for it. He scrambled madly backwards, hanging from the top shelf for a moment before dropping-

Right onto his bad foot.

It gave out under him and he landed hard on his right hip with a thud and a squawk of indignant pain, but made himself get up. If he could make it to the stairwell- Jarvis would be there-

Come ON Parker- he could do this! His ankle and hip screamed every time he moved forward but he ignored it, moving as fast as he could even with a fucking limp-

“**STOP!**”

He didn’t fall- falling wasn’t the word for it. It was more of a horrible slow motion ballet of forward skidding collapse as his legs spontaneously stopped responding to his brain mid stride during a limping run. Momentum and gravity did their level best to teach him a lesson. But properly this time. He came within millimeters of introducing his nose to cold concrete at what felt like highway speeds. Thank god he had on splints- otherwise he would have cracked the casts again.

When his brain came back online he was flat on his back, and the now shirtless alpha- _ holy shit he was HUGE and so fucking hairy _\- was kneeling on the floor, holding his foot up and carefully prodding his bad ankle.

He squeaked in panic- rearing back to kick him with his good foot-

“_Settle! _” the alpha barked, growling a warning. It wasn’t a command, not like earlier, but Peter found himself going limp anyway, hyperventilating with stress.

“Now- what I want to know is- _where are your_ _shoes?_” the alpha demanded angrily, and Peter damn near felt his brain reboot.

_ What? _That was not... bad guys didn’t usually scold you for your choice of footwear-

He realized distantly that the man was holding his shirt to his foot.

“This floor is _ disgustin’ _ and you’re out here runnin’ ‘round all barefoot and crazy, and now you’re _ bleedin’ _,” the alpha grumbled. “If you’re lucky all you’ll get is tetanus.”

“I’m not going to get tetanus!” Peter protested automatically, his brain still partially offline.

“Uh huh,” the alpha said, clearly not impressed. “That sounds like somethin’ someone who gets tetanus would say.”

Peter scowled at him. “Who ARE you?” he demanded. “You’re not supposed to be here! This area is supposed to be for Tower staff-”

The alpha grunted. “Name’s Harley. An’ I was _ told _ to take inventory here. So technically, I work here. But _ you _\- you clearly ain’t old enough to work the register at a bait shop-”

Peter flushed, but didn’t deny it. Bastard didn’t have to rub it in-

“So what’s gonna happen now is you’re gonna give me a phone number and I’m gonna call your Momma-”

Oh god. This was worse than terrorists. Terrorists at least didn’t call your Mom to come pick you up-

“What- no!” Peter protested.

“I’m gonna call your Momma,” Harley went on, undeterred. “And she can come pick you up and take ya to the doctor to have your foot looked at-”

Where the fuck was Hydra when you needed them? Always plotting and scheming and never a good surprise attack when you _ needed _ one-

“How about you let me go, I _ don’t _ kick you in the face, and we call it even?” Peter tried.

Harley stared at him for a moment, his face deadpan. “You’re lucky you’re adorable,” he said pointedly.

Peter gasped- physically gasped, he was so offended.

“Fuck you!” he snapped. “I’m _ not _adorable! Babies are adorable, and I am NOT a baby! I’m almost 16!”

Harley’s face twitched a bit. “Nearly 16, huh?” he parroted back, mockingly. “I guess that means that I can jus’ toss ya in the elevator and let Jarvis decide what to do with ya-”

_ Shit. _ Jarvis would definitely take him to MedBay- why did this just keep getting worse?

“I won't kick you in the face, _ and _ the balls-” Peter upped the ante. "And I won't call you a werewolf when I complain about you later," he lied. He was totally going to call him a werewolf when he called Ned and had a proper panic attack about this whole situation later.

“Uh huh,” Harley said, unimpressed, and tugged gently on Peter’s bad foot, making Peter hiss with pain.

Peter snarled at him. “Let me go King Kong!” he spat. “You’re at the wrong tower! The Empire State Building is at 5th Avenue and 33rd!”

“You’re a little shit, ain’t ya?” Harley said cheerfully, and moved his shirt to check Peter’s foot. “The good news is that it’s stopped bleedin’. The bad news is I think you’ve broken your ankle. You shouldn’t be climbin’ like that. I damn near had a heart attack when I heard ya hit the floor-” Harley scolded.

SHIT.

“I’m fine!” Peter protested. “I twisted it like yesterday. It’s just acting up- I’ll go wrap it- just let me go!”

Harley eyed him. Tilted his head and considered the direction Peter had been going in-

“You know that there’s just stairs that way, right?” Harley said skeptically. “And you’ve got a busted ankle.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Duh- where do you think I came from?” he sassed. “I can make it-”

Harley raised an eyebrow at him.

“I can! It’s just an ankle- I’ve had worse.”

Harley hummed. His gaze flicked to the splints on Peter’s arms. “You get hurt a lot, little one?” he asked gently.

“I’m not little! You’re just huge!” Peter protested hotly, offended all over again. “Not everyone has a BigFoot in their family tree!”

Harley’s face twitched a bit again. “Right. I’m calling your Momma,” he said gruffly, and put Peter’s foot down so he could pull a phone from his pocket.

“You can’t call her because my parents are dead!” Peter snapped at him, going for the ‘pity the orphan’ angle. It’d been ages since he’d had to play that card. Then did a double take at the phone. It had a rainbow heart sticker on the back from where Darcy had stuck it and Peter had yet to get around to taking it off. “Hey! That’s mine!”

Harley ignored him, thumbing through the phone. “Uh huh. So if I call this here ‘Dad’ in the contacts, that’s actually no-one special, right?” he said sarcastically.

Peter saw his life flash before his eyes. He was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. Alone. With a Strange Alpha. Hurt. Pretty much the only thing missing from his bingo sheet was “having an alpha in his room”.

Would he ever see daylight again?

Peter snarled and lunged for the phone. It was a fight for survival now.

“GIVE IT!” Peter roared, ramming bodily into him, intending to knock him over. But he was coming from being prone on his back, and the larger alpha had faster reflexes than he should- (and apparently was made of solid rock) and Peter ended up merely rocking him gently backwards while feeling like he’d hit a brick wall.

Plan B was slapping the damn thing out of his hands- he got in a hit- and holy fuck that stung his fingers.

“Are you an actual golem?” Peter demanded angrily while Harley growled a warning at him, and tried to move the phone out his reach. Peter ignored the growl and the “holding it above his head” technique didn’t work because A) Harley was on his knees. And B) Peter simply climbed up him like a one legged monkey anyway.

“GIVE IT!” Peter snarled, and knocked at the phone again- it went flying. From the sound of it, it hit several racks violently on it’s way to the floor.

SUCCESS!

Harley snarled with what smelled like annoyance, and Peter found himself enveloped in a bear hug from behind. He squeaked, struggled, went to bite a bicep- (Nat, at least, would be pleased with him)

“**Settle.**”

Peter woke up on his back on the floor again. Groaned. WTF?

“You broke your phone,” the Devil Incarnate said matter of factly. He was sitting on the world’s smallest computer chair, typing on his laptop at the dusty desk.

“Stop _ doing _ that!” Peter complained bitterly, and tried to will his limbs to work again.

“What? Bein’ reasonable?” Harley asked.

“Your stupid Voice. It’s not _ fair _!”

“You’ll grow out of it,” Harley said dismissively. “In the meantime, you should consider that if it didn’t work, I mighta hurt ya by accident.”

Peter snarled at him.

“Uh huh,” Harley said, clearly unimpressed. “You wanna talk about why you challenged someone three times your size instead of lettin’ me call your Daddy?”

Peter huffed and managed to sit up- then realized he had a major flaw in his plan. If he got away, either he A) crawled/hopped up 6 flights of stairs, got to his room, and Jarvis would sic someone on him “for his own good” or B) got into the elevator and Jarvis would take him straight to MedBay.

No matter how you sliced it- Dad would find out.

Which meant that he had essentially destroyed his phone for nothing.

“Dammnit! Why the fuck are you even HERE right now?” Peter demanded angrily. “This level is supposed to be empty!”

Harley paused to turn and regard him thoughtfully.

“Ya know- that’s a good question. Why are _ you _ here?” he asked. “Where did you come from? This floor is well above the public levels. Ya shoulda tripped all kinds of alarms gettin’ up here-”

Peter went still for a moment. Should he lie? He had no answers for this scenario.

“I live here,” Peter snapped.

That brought Harley up short. He clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. He frowned at Peter. “The _ Avengers _ live here,” Harley said, making it perfectly clear that Peter was obviously Not An Avenger.

“And their _ families _,” Peter protested.

“Uh huh. Because if you really lived here- you wouldn’t be afraid of Jarvis-”

“Jarvis is a rat and tattle tale,” Peter snapped.

Harley paused. Looked at him- really looked at him to the point that Peter found himself blushing and hunching in on himself. When he caught himself doing it, Peter scowled, crossed his arms across his chest and glared defiantly back.

“Jarvis ain’t on this floor,” Harley said slowly.

“And water is wet,” Peter sassed.

“_You _ were the one who put the mattresses down-” Harley said thoughtfully, and Peter scowled at him.

“So?” Peter demanded.

“You come ‘ere and play, don’t ya?”

Peter gasped again. “I am NOT A BABY!”

“And you ain’t supposta be here-” Harley continued, ignoring him. “You’ll get in trouble-”

_ Shit shit shit shit. _Big alphas were supposed to be stupid- what the fuck was happening right now? Maybe he could make a run for it?

But to _ where _?

“You really afraid of your Daddy that much?” Harley asked.

“No!” Peter snapped, obviously lying. He wasn’t sure which was worse- the thought of his Dad being angry with him or disappointed. Ma had told him to take it easy today- which _ technically _ was a suggestion, not an order. And it wasn’t like he’d _ meant _ to break almost every rule ever given to him all in one go. And wind up hurt in the process-

_ What would Dad DO? _

And worse- _ Would Ma ever let him out of his sight again? _

He felt faintly like he was going to puke. Ma was going to lose his absolute _ shit _-

“Hey- calm down little one. It’ll be okay-” Harley was saying.

“No- it _ won’t _ ,” he said bitterly. Tears were already well on their way. _ Damnit. _ He didn’t want to fucking cry- nevermind cry in front a _ stranger- _

“Is there somethin’ I can do to help?” Harley asked. “I can tell your Daddy it weren’t your fault- I did give you a bit of a scare-”

Peter shuddered at the thought.

_ Why no Dad- getting hurt wasn’t my fault. Just listen to this strange alpha that I was alone with and talked to. _

Yeah. That would go down like a lead balloon.

“That’ll just make it worse-” he complained. He eyed the elevator, and the tattling Jarvis that it contained. “I just... I need some time, alright? It’ll be better in like an hour. I’ll be able to fake it to get back to my room and go to bed without Jarvis getting suspicious.”

Harley didn’t look too impressed. “A broke foot ain’t gonna heal itself in an hour, little one.”

“It’s not broken!”

Harley pursed his lips together. “Tell ya what. I’ll go get a new shirt and some frozen peas and come back. And if you can walk outta here ‘afore lunch time, I won’t say boo to nobody.”

Peter considered him. “Okay?” he said, uncertainly.

Harley gave him a smile, leaned over and ruffled his hair. Peter leaned away from him and scowled.

“It’ll be fine- you’ll see. I’ll be back,” Harley said and went to the elevator.

Peter watched him go. He wondered if he would be back. If he would come back alone. Or if he’d been lying and was going to tell on him.

Either way, he was stuck here for now. He scooted over so that he could sit with his back against a rack, folded his good leg up against his chest, laid his head back and sighed. His ankle and his butt fucking _ hurt _. He grunted and shifted a bit so that he wasn’t sitting so hard on the bad side.

His fingers sought out a small scar just under his right rib cage. It felt like 3 lifetimes ago- he had been out on patrol, and got “lightly stabbed.” After he webbed the bad guy up, he had sat on a rooftop, just like this, and had waited for the bleeding to stop before he went home.

That was when he’d decided to web himself to try to make the bleeding stop faster - he’d been afraid of bleeding on Aunt May’s carpet at the time. She didn’t know that he’d been going out and beating up bad guys “in his pajamas” as Ma would say. Thankfully, it had worked.

It wasn’t until a few days later when he did laundry and looked at his clothes in the daylight that he realized that he could have bled out that night. In the end, he had to throw away that first costume- no amount of spot cleaner and seltzer water could save it.

But he hadn’t bled out. And the stab wound had only been sore for like a day, or a day and half at most. Of course, that was in the “before time”, when Ma didn’t even know he’d existed.

And now- it wasn’t a stab wound. It was fucking sprained ankle. Ruined by a few stairs and a short drop.

Oh god. He was going to have to quit being Spider-Man. He’d be lying if the thought of sneaking out while he was at May’s to do a bit of patrolling hadn’t crossed his mind.

But if this was the state he was in- he’d collapse at the faintest headwind, nevermind the dramatic bouncing entrance he liked to do when he dropped down several stories to land just a few inches behind the bad guy while throwing out a quip.

He had a feeling he’d break both of his legs if he tried that now.

_ Fuck. _

He sniffed, winced, and shifted. On the desk, the laptop started a new country song. Peter couldn’t decide what he wanted more- an ice pick for his ears or his god damned nose spray. Where the hell had he left it anyway? Dare he take it? If he did and Dad came down to check on him he’d notice that he was basically high as fuck.

_ Fuck. _

God damn allergies...

God damn stupid glass.

God damn stupid racks.

Stupid fucking ankle.

Stupid, stupid bones.

Lazy ass healing factor. He’d been eating more! Wake up and do your fucking job already!

The elevator dinged open and Peter recoiled a bit- there was nowhere to _ hide _-

Oh. Harley. He relaxed a bit. The alpha, now in a new t-shirt that didn’t so much cover his shoulders as it barely stretched over them- knelt down next to him.

“You don’t look so hot, little one,” he murmured, and cautiously put the back of a large hand to Peter’s forehead. “You hurtin’ a lot?”

Peter grunted. “Just sore,” he said.

Harley hummed skeptically. “You want some tylenol?” he asked, pulling a bottle out of a pocket.

Peter almost- _ almost _\- said yes. Then remembered. “Allergic,” he said.

“Aspirin?”

“Allergic.”

Harley raised an eyebrow at him. “Anythin’ you’re not allergic to?” he asked jokingly.

“No.”

He frowned at him, clearly not expecting that answer. Peter felt at his neck for his necklace. “Unless you got some morphine in there, I’m out of luck,” he said sarcastically.

“Well, I certainly ain’t got none of that,” Harley said, frowning deeply. “Well- here. You can’t be allergic to frozen peas,” he said, and put the bag of frozen peas on Peter’s outstretched ankle. Peter shivered. They felt both amazing and awful at the same time.

“Thanks,” Peter said.

Harley grunted. “Don’t thank me yet. I don’t like you on the floor like this,” he said. “You’ll catch your death of a cold on top of that tetanus of yours.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but Harley ignored him, got up and wandered down the aisle between the racks. He returned a few moments later, dragging a mattress along behind him. One handed. A queen sized mattress at that. Peter had to use both hands to wrangle the damn things when he’d handled them.

_ Oh. _

Harley dropped it on the floor next to Peter, who eyed it with alarm.

Right...

An alpha had literally just got a mattress for him. All causal like. A literal actual mattress. One handed. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that. Was there a rule about omegas accepting mattresses from strange alphas? There probably was, knowing his luck. But as usual he didn’t know because no one _told him_ _anything_-

But wait- he was wearing his alpha scent right now.

So... was there a rule about alphas accepting mattresses from other, larger alphas? God, he barely knew how to Omega! The most he knew about alphaing was the upwards head nod thing they did sometimes to each other. Should he do that now?

Jesus Christ, he so did not sign up for this. He just wanted people to call him ‘he’ goddamn it. He clearly did not think this through when he was all excited for the new scent.

He decided that he was too tired and hurt to care about such thing as ‘society's expectations’ and crawled on the fucking mattress. It was about a million times better than the floor and then some. And it didn’t suck the heat out of him like the concrete did.

Then- THEN- the man appeared again with a pillow. And a blanket. Peter instantly made grabby hands at him, and basically snatched the blanket from him.

“Now now, calm down,” Harley scolded teasingly, holding back the pillow. “Gimme your foot.” Then he propped Peter’s foot on a pillow and positioned the peas over the bad ankle before draping the blanket over the entire thing.

Peter damn near purred. This was better. So much better.

He just needed like... 10 more pillows. For reasons.

“Was there only one pillow on the entire floor or what?” Peter snarked.

“You need more than one?” Harley shot back, eyebrow raised.

Peter scowled at him, and gestured at his pillow-less head. “Obviously.”

Harley rolled his eyes and returned with a literal tower of pillows, which he dumped pointedly directly on top of Peter.

“It’s about time,” Peter mock-complained, and started arranging them.

“You ‘nested’ now?” Harley asked from his chair sarcastically.

For a second Peter froze. Looked around at his- Jesus Christ, he was totally nesting. And alphas didn’t nest.

Right?

“Shut up,” Peter shot back lamely, and laid down. Fuck it. He’d nest if he damn well wanted to. He hurt and the pillows and blanket, while scratchy, were better than nothing.

Harley snorted. “You know, you still haven’t told me your name,” he said casually as he typed god knows what on his computer.

Peter froze again in mid-snuggle of a pillow. “I’m no-one,” he tried. “I was never here.”

“Uh huh,” Harley said. “You really gonna get in that much trouble?”

“They already don’t let me leave the tower,” Peter said bitterly. “I’d like to see daylight in something other than the movies.”

The typing paused briefly. “Oh?” Harley asked, way too casually.

Peter froze again. _ Shit _. Him and his stupid mouth-

“I don’t exist. I’m a figment of your imagination,” Peter snapped back. “In fact, consider me a hallucination. You should drink more water or something.”

Harley snorted. “Uh huh.”

“I can make some ghost noises if it’ll help. It’ll go well with your ah... ‘_ music _’,” Peter said, the word dripping with air quotes and sarcasm.

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a bit of country-” Harley protested.

“Spoons are not, and will never be an actual instrument. I will fight you on that.”

“Spoons?” Harley asked, clearly caught off guard.

“Name another genre that uses spoons and washboards. I’ll wait. Oh wait- I don’t have to. Because everyone else uses _ actual _ instruments.”

“What does that have to do with anythin’?” Harley complained after a full several seconds of visibly confused silence.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just because your tiny alpha brain is too small to comprehend the truth doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

Harley’s face twitched a bit. “Hey- just cuz I’m big don’t mean I’m stupid,” he said gruffly. “Just like how you’re small don’t make you less of an alpha.”

Peter blinked, confused. It took him a moment to remember- oh. Right. Alpha scent. And apparently he’d hit a bit of nerve there. He hadn’t meant to do that.

“Sorry?” he tried hesitantly, and braced himself for a return shot about his ‘nesting’ is what made him ‘less of an alpha’ or something.

It never came.

“You really don’t like country that much?” Harley asked, apparently appeased.

Peter scowled at him. “DUDE. The last freakin’ 3 songs have basically talked about omegas like they’re fucking property. Omegas aren’t sexy suitcases.”

Harley frowned at him. “What?”

“ ‘Tell her she’s mine’? _ Seriously _ ? The dude hasn’t even met her and is already basically pissing on her leg. And ‘you’ll be my soft and sweet’? Really? Has that guy ever actually _ met _ an omega? Michelle from the debate club at my school would eat him alive then kneecap his banjo player.”

“Omegas can be sweet,” he protested.

“Name a single ‘sweet’ omega that you know in real life,” Peter countered.

“Mary-Anne,” Harley said instantly. “She’s sweet.”

“Is she two?” Peter asked witheringly.

“She’s a year younger than me,” Harley said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “An omega that’s trying to ride your dick doesn’t count,” Peter said dismissively, and Harley choked on his drink. “You shouldn’t fall for it. It’s all an act anyway.”

“She ain’t-” Harley protested, recovering. “She’s a like a sister to me-”

“Uh huh,” Peter said, mirroring Harley’s earlier attitude.

“It ain’t an act-”

Peter sighed, angled his head, and turned on his best, saddest, puppy dog eyes. “Harley? Will you get me a drink please?” he asked, his voice syrupy and high.

Harley froze. Peter could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he apparently questioned everything that had ever happened to him in his life.

“I would get it myself, but my ankle hurts,” Peter continued, and threw in a pout because why not? He blinked a bit rapidly. If anyone asked if he was batting his eyelashes he would vehemently deny it. “Please?”

Harley considered him for several long seconds. “You- YOU are a _ menace _,” he growled eventually, before producing a water bottle from the drawer in the desk and reaching over and putting it down nearish the mattress.

Peter beamed at him, ignoring the insult. The Daily Bugle called him that almost every other day. “_ Thank you _ alpha,” he cooed, his voice still sugar sweet, and snagged it.

Harley seemed to suffer another blue screen. Peter snickered. Natasha and Tony seemed to be onto something. Breaking alphas was _ fun. _

“Sucker,” Peter teased. “See? That was almost a textbook classical conditioning response-”

“It was not-” Harley protested weakly.

“Uh huh,” Peter said, totally judging his obvious denial, and took a sip of his water. “Even _ I _ can do it, and I’m not even a real omega.”

Harley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then apparently changed his mind. He sighed like he was regretting his life choices. “I’ll ah- I’ll change the music,” he said weakly.

Peter beamed at him some more, and opened his mouth-

“Call me a good alpha and I’ll dump ya in the elevator,” Harley threatened idly.

Peter sulked. “You’re no fun,” he complained, and laid back onto his pillows.

“Uh huh,” Harley said dismissively. He changed the music to some sort of acapella group, and went back to typing on his laptop.

Peter listened to him typing for several minutes and sighed. Now that it was obvious he wasn't going to be eaten or something, all he felt was just... _tired._ He could feel his eyes start to drift close. He listened to the music and inhaled the alpha's nice soothing scent that was like his Dad's but wasn't... He hugged a pillow.

Maybe everything would be alright after all. And a nap never hurt anyone, right?

He was out like a light by the third song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * “She’s Mine” by Kip Moore. 
> 
> I've made some small changes to Chapter 3- Parker Luck so that the "you don't take food off alpha's plates" reference makes sense and follows my "show more than tell" philosophy.


End file.
